Shades of Chaos
by Masako Moonshade
Summary: Zuko has stumbled upon a deadly new ally and he begins to wish that he hadn't. Now Katara is the pawn of a vengeful Spirit, and the instrument to his victory. But what does he hate more? The Avatar, or the Spirit that manipulates him?
1. Shadow I Havoc Unleashed

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar. Nor do I own the rights to this idea either, because half of it was inspired byWolf Moonhawk's story, and the rest was spawned from my underpriveleged, underpaid mind while working at a minimum wage job. Gee, don't you just _love_ Unions?

AN: Please, read and review. And just for reference sake: This takes place immediately after The Seige of the North, Part II. I may be making brief references to those episodes throughout the fic, so if you haven't seen it...don't yell at me for spoiling things for you. Also, next week I have finals, so I'll just let you guys simmer with this chapter for a while, and I'll update whenever I can...most likely, my next update will be on the 23rd.

**Shades of Chaos**

**The First Shadow:**

**Havoc Unleashed**

**I**

Hope was not even considered- the little raft stood no chance against the raging gales and driving rain of the storm. The already battered pieces of wood and steel began to screech in protest against the violent sea, growing louder and louder until with a final _crack_, the makeshift vessel shattered. It's passengers were thrown to the mercy of the tempest, holding on to the splintered remains of the mast for dear life as they, too, were tossed idly between mammoth waves like toys.

It was impossible to tell how long the sea continued it's ruthless abuse, but slowly, surely, the younger of the soaked figures felt sand grinding against his legs. He kicked down, and felt something solid resist the touch of his toes.

"Uncle!" he spluttered, trying at once to cry out and empty his mouth of seawater. "Land!"

The old man glanced up at him in surprise- most likely, the message had not even been understood. But he smiled nonetheless- a weak smile, intended to restore even the slightest trace of Hope to his nephew. Another wave drove them further, and another- the boy no longer had to kick to feel the firm sand beneath his feet. His uncle now felt it, too. He looked around, almost desperately, but the brutal waves were still too high over his head, obscuring everything but the boy's face. He tightened his grip on his nephew's wrist, just in time before both of them were hurled against the course shallows of a beach. The violent waves ground them mercilessly into the rocky shore, threatening to drown both in sea brine. The boy was the first to regain his feet against the fierce pull,and he wasted no time in grabbing his uncle and dragging him out of reach of the surf.

The old man staggered after his nephew, following him further inshore. "We need to find shelter," he said, his old eyes scanning the rocky terrain.

"I already saw something," the boy said, pointing at a mass of stones. There seemed to be a crevice at their base, just large enough for a man to crawl through.

"Well done, Prince Zuko," the old man coughed, hope quickening his pace. Perhaps it was larger than it looked; perhaps it was a cave. Though it didn't matter. Even a meager shelter would be enough, if it could house a fire. And that could well be the difference between life and death. The old man, the Retired General Iroh, Dragon of the West, glanced warmly up at his nephew as Zuko helped him ascend the slick gravel slope around the crevice. _At very least, a good fire will keep him alive_, he thought.

"Go ahead, Uncle," the boy said, his voice raised to be heard over the howling winds. "I'll be right after you."

Iroh opened his mouth to protest, turning to his nephew, but his foot hit a patch of mud, and the earth beneath him gave way. He slid down, into the crevice, expecting to hit the back wall, but he continued, unhindered except for a few of the larger stones that lay scattered around him. Zuko scrambled haphazardly after him, shouting hoarsely for his uncle.

There was no reply.

After what seemed to be ages, the ground leveled. Zuko was now shrouded in absolute darkness, but he refused to turn back, expelling it somewhat with a spark of flame. Long, eerie shadows lurched across the floor of what appeared to be a cave. He didn't pay it much attention: his focus was on Iroh, who lay motionless on the ground a few feet away.

"Uncle!" was all Zuko could manage to say as he dove at the old man, horror and fear coursing through his mind, hoping against hope against a fate that he didn't dare name.

A subtle rise and fall of the old man's chest proved that he was alive and breathing, but a cruel bruise marred the side of his scull, edged with a small cut.

"Uncle?" the young man said quietly, trying to keep the tension from his voice. "Can you hear me?" Iroh groaned, but did not move. His nephew knelt at his side, tearing off a clean section of his otherwise muddy shirt, wrapping it around the wound. Iroh shuddered, though he didn't wake, and for the first time since he entered the cave, Zuko realized that he was freezing- he had been soaked to the bone, and the air around him was frigid.

He summoned a large orb of flame for warmth, laying it by his uncle, and the entire cavern was illuminated. The cave was large, and perfectly round, as though a sphere had been carved from the earth. In the center hung a massive spider's web, every strand as wide as a man's forearm, and shone silver, sending sparks of light across the stone walls, though the bottom and center of the web remained in shadow. Zuko tentatively stepped closer, nearly entranced by the glittering web, and suddenly leapt back in horror.

"Dear Agnii..." he muttered, coming closer. He conjured another flame, and the added light revealed the truth of the web.

It was no spider's creation, and the threads were neither silver, nor silk. They were steel chains, inhumanly thick, tethered to a dozen stone loops that had been carved into the cave wall. The chains converged at the center, wrapping around a distorted figure.

The chains bound nearly every inch of it's body, it's wrists tied together far over it's head, held tight by the center most links of the tangled web, and the rest of the body hung limply below. It had been forced into a kneeling position, though it's knees were suspended a hand's breadth off the ground.

Though the figure was human, it's shape was oddly blurred- it's gender, the color of the skin, the shape of the nose and mouth, all were impossible to distinguish, and every feature seemed to evade the eye with the most minuscule movements. Only the eyes were stationary- these were a cloudy black that pleaded silently as the mouth below them struggled to move.

"_Rrreeee...reelleeaasssss...Mmmeeee..._" the figure rasped. The eyes moved sluggishly to meet Zuko's, and again it spoke, this time clearer: "_Release me..._"

"Who are you?" Zuko asked, every fiber of his body tensed for danger. "Who did this to you? And why?"

"_Please_..." the word was broken by a coughing fit. As soon as the convulsions subsided, the prisoner spoke again, despite the trickle of blood that escaped the corner of the weary mouth. "_Release me_..."

Zuko hesitated, but caution finally gave way to pity, and he approached.

"Hold still," he commanded redundantly, gripping the nearest of the chains. He pulled at it testing the strength of the links, and formed a flare in his palm.

Hours passed as Zuko worked, slowly melting away the steel. Only two strands of the tangled web remained now- the innermost threads, those which bound the prisoner's neck and wrists, which had been previously unreachable. Meanwhile, against the wall of the cavern, Iroh woke with a groan.

"Prince Zuko?" he asked wearily, looking around for his nephew.

"I'm right here, Uncle," the young man said, never pausing from his work. Iroh sat up and squinted through the darkness of the cave.

"Prince Zuko?" he asked again. "What are you doing?" Slowly he approached, still unsteady from the violence of the storm and the throbbing in his temples.

"I'm almost finished," Zuko said. He gave the chains a yank, and the melted steel gave way, dropping with a clatter to the stone around the figure's knees. It's head dropped with the weight, shaking its shaggy head as it tried to throw off the chain. Meanwhile Zuko worked at melting through the final bonds that held the prisoner's wrists.

"What is this?" Iroh asked, weaving his fingers through the severed chains, untangling them from the prisoner's bruised neck.

"I'm not sure," Zuko grunted, snapping his hand back. The links nearest his fingers were glowing white-hot, as he burned at them, and a few drops of the molten steel began to creep dangerously close to him. The bonds fell away, finally revealing the prisoner's face.

Iroh paled. He heard a clank as the last chain broke.

Zuko wiped his brow and knelt beside his uncle, reaching forward to help the old man untangle the forlorn figure.

"This man needs-"  
"This is no man," Iroh said gravely.

"What?"

"It is a Spirit."

"Uncle-" he had no chance to finish before he was interrupted by a thunderous sound. The noise was horrific, loud and fierce and unearthly, until it finally formed into words.

"**_Freedom_**!" The sound shook the cavern. Zuko and Iroh were thrown back, as the figure between them began to writhe and convulse, it's odd skin turning ominously black, its body growing ever larger as it ripped off the remnants of the chains, hurling them aside. "**_AAAAIIIII AAAAHHHHMMMM FFFFFRRRREEEEEEEE_**!" The creature- the Spirit- turned, it's huge, horrible crimson eyes sweeping through the cavern, until they finally landed on Zuko. The young man retreated a step, then raised his hands defiantly, preparing himself for a fight to the death. The Spirit bellowed again- and vanished.

"Prince Zuko!" Iroh cried, rushing toward his nephew. "Are you all right?" Zuko feverishly searched the darkness before he spoke.

"I'm fine-nghurah!" he jerked in surprise as something powerful wrapped around his shoulders from behind, dragging him down.

"Prince Zu-"

"Thank you!" A high, childish voice split the cold air of the cave, only adding to the confusion. Zuko tore himself from the steely grip, forming a small fireball in his fist as he turned to see his attacker. Or rather, to see a child, younger than the Avatar, whose pale hair and eyes seemed to glisten in the dim light. "You have no idea how much I needed that, dear."

"Prince Zuko-" Iroh began again.

"What?" Zuko demanded of the child, trying to make sense of what he had just seen. "Where did you come from?"

"Prince-"

"What do you think?" the child asked with a grin. The Exiled Prince felt himself grow angry with her blatant insolence, but he chose to conserve his energy for the Spirit, if it chose to return.

"If I had any idea, I wouldn't have asked!" he snapped. "Are you from around here?" the child shook her head laughingly. "A nearby island, then? Is there a way off this forsaken rock?"

"On foot? No," the girl said with grating friendliness.

"_Then where did you come from?_" Another infuriating grin. The girl pointed over his shoulder, and Zuko angrily spun on his heels to see what was so funny. Her insolent finger was thrust directly into the heart of the empty pile of chains.

"Prince Zuko," Iroh said again, finally uninterrupted. "_She's_ the Spirit."

The Prince's oath echoed through the cavern, followed by the Spirit's soft laughter.


	2. II

Disclaimer: (to the tune of I Feel Pretty)_I own nothing, plain old nothing, Nothing and Nada and ZIIIIILLLLCCHHHH!_

**II**

"He didn't mean to be rude," Iroh hastily explained. "He's had a rough day-"

"I can see that," the Spirit observed. It vanished again, reappearing at Zuko's side. But it was no longer the child- now it was a grown woman, this one with dark skin and vivid red hair. It lifted it's hand to his face, allowing its fingers to hover above his numerous cuts and bruises. "These are impressive marks. And most of them-" the dark, ominous fingers trailed over the burn scar on his cheek- "Carved by human hands. Interesting..." Zuko resisted the urge to cringe away. He knew little about Spirits, outside of his uncle's stories. But he didn't like what little he remembered of these tales: that they were powerful and foul tempered.

"Who are you?" he asked steadily, trying to remove the uncomfortable attention from his wounds. The Spirit smiled and vanished again, reappearing in front of him. Now it appeared to be a warrior, every inch of his skin emblazoned with bold black and red markings. Zuko tensed every muscle, determined not to let his alarm show.

"I am Mischief," it said. "I am Chaos. I am Discord. I am Turmoil. I am Pandemonium." The Spirit once more resumed a smaller, female form. "And I seem to be in your debt, dear."

"What?" was the only word that could escape Zuko's throat. The Spirit grimaced.

"For centuries untold I have been stuck in this stupid cave," it said, circling him impatiently, all the while stretching out its limbs and rolling its neck. Zuko turned to keep a constant eye on the Spirit; he didn't want such a creature at his back, no matter what it said. "Many a mortal has come and gone...and yet you alone have released me. And for that, I am greatly indebted to you."

As it spoke, an idea formed within Zuko's mind. "What _exactly_ does that include?" he asked cautiously. The Spirit smirked.

"You want a way off this rock?" it said.

"Yes," he said quickly, glancing at his uncle. "Both of us do." Not quite what he had in mind, but mobility was essential for the rest of his plans. But first he wanted to make sure that Iroh too would be free of the cursed island. The Spirit nodded nonchalantly.

"Then follow me, dear," it said, stepping into the tunnel that Zuko and Iroh had come from. As the tunnel narrowed, the Spirit changed again, now assuming the form of another nimble child. Zuko and Iroh followed with more difficulty, often sliding on the mud and loose gravel.

"Hurry, dear," it called, already out of sight.

"Slow down," Zuko shouted after it, regaining his balance for the fifth time, but his words echoed emptily back at him.

"You're almost there," the Spirit assured him, either not hearing his request or ignoring it entirely. "When you get outside, you need to get on quickly."

"Get on wha-"

"Sunlight! Yes! Finally- it's been too long...ah, glorious sunlight! You have no idea how long it's been since I've seen the sun! It's incredible!" Its voice grew faint and muffled, and a moment later a soft light leaked into the tunnel, casting murky shadows on the walls. Cautiously Zuko and Iroh picked their way through the last stretch, finally emerging into a blast of chilly wind and blinding sunlight. Zuko bristled, but not unpleasantly- the Spirit was right: it felt good to feel natural light on his face after long hours underground. He looked up, trying to shield his eyes from the bold glare, his mouth open to address the Spirit.

But the Spirit was nowhere to be seen. A dragon stood before him now, as proud and noble as though it had stepped from a legend, its mighty head turned to him expectantly.

Zuko stood frozen. Never in his life had he seen a real dragon. Never had he even _heard_ of them, except in myths and ancient stories. Yet here it stood, alive and huge and crimson and beautiful and incredibly, wonderfully real-

"Is that you, Spirit?" Iroh asked, climbing to his feet. The dragon nodded regally. Zuko felt a confusing mixture of awe and disappointment. Of course the Spirit was the dragon. It had already demonstrated that it was a shapeshifter. And a powerful one, if this transformation meant anything. And yet...somehow, he couldn't get past the idea that such a magnificent creature was fake, just a temporary solution to a minor problem. Wordlessly, he climbed on the Spirit-dragon's ridged back, just as it had instructed him to do. From behind it's leathery wings, he could see the rest of the island- it was little more than an outcropping of rock, barely two hundred paces across, barren of everything except moss and stone and sand. Whoever- or whatever- had chained the Spirit had clearly not wanted it to be found, and it had chosen well.

And with an icy dread, he couldn't help but wonder: _why_?

Iroh mounted the Spirit behind him, and in a dizzying rush of cold wind and wings, they were in the air. The Spirit-dragon twisted, roaring triumphantly- the sound was so loud that Zuko felt his bones shake beneath his skin- and in a few powerful wing beats, the island disappeared beneath them, swallowed b the halcyon world of sea and clouds.

That evening, Zuko carefully studied the Spirit as it stretched out on the sandy shores of a beach, performing some unknown ritual. With almost every movement it changed appearances, some of them human, some animal, some female, some male. The constant transformations had unnerved him at first, but he was slowly becoming used to the bizarre nature of the creature.

"Spirit," he said quietly. It glanced over its shoulder- his shoulder, her fealized, gazing at him with his own eyes, set in his face. He felt a cold prickle climb along his neck- he had looked into mirrors before, but nothing compared to _this_.

"Tsune," it said with his voice, before changing shape again, this time to an Earth Nation woman.

"What?" he asked, his voice betraying no sign of his discomfort.

"If you need to call me something, then call me Tsune."

"All right," he said, nodding absently.

"What did you want, dear?"

"You said you owed me," he said, his voice quiet, though commanding. The Spirit smiled maliciously.

"I take it you've got something in mind?" it asked, its voice still his. Zuko pushed his discomfort aside.

"The Avatar," he said. "I want you to bring him to me. Tsune's now golden eyes glittered- the unsuppressed excitement strangely twisting his face.

"The Avatar? Sounds like a challenge!" The fierce grin that had been spreading across its face faded, replaced by sober pensiveness. "Too bad I can't do it."

"But you said-"

"I would love to do it, dear, believe me," it assured him. As discreetly as possible, Zuko swallowed, as though to make sure those words were not coming from his own throat. "But there is one _minor_ problem: I have no power over the Avatar. Quite the opposite, really. And fighting him...it would accomplish nothing."

The Spirit waved one hand carelessly, brushing off the task as unimportant. Zuko turned away and exhaled angrily, allowing a few flames to curl through his frustrated breath.

"Then I'm back where I started," he growled at nobody.

"Don't be so sure, dear," Tsune said, draping mischievously over his shoulder. "Just because I can't fight him for you doesn't mean I can't help you." The Banished Prince froze.

"Go on," he said, ignoring the uncomfortable proximity. The Spirit flashed a predator's grin.

"The Avatar is in the world of the Mortals," it said. "And all who dwell here have a mortal flaw. I can find the Avatar's weakness, and bring it to you. And once you have that, the Avatar is yours."

"Yes," Zuko said immediately, shrugging it off his shoulder. "Right now-"

"Not yet," the Spirit chided. "Have patience, dear."

"I've _been_ patient-"

"And can stand to wait a little longer. You are in no condition to fight, dear. And the past few...who knows how long...have been unkind to me- I will need rest before I can begin on such a hunt." Zuko opened his mouth to argue. "Don't fret, dear. Just give me some time, and I will find the Avatar for you. I promise." Cracking its neck a few times, it returned to its spastic transformations as though the two of them had never spoken. Zuko wasn't sure which he found more disturbing: these rapid, random changes, or the eerie living mirror of himself.

"Spi...Tsune..." the word was strange on his tongue. He considered asking it any of a thousand questions, but his uncle's warnings were still on his mind: _Show the Spirit all respect-they are powerful, and must not be trifled with_. "What are you doing?" The Spirit glanced questioningly at him, shifting forms again. Zuko's muscles tensed once more- Spirit or mortal, seeing somebody change so entirely and so quickly was little short of creepy. Its expression changed with its face, now acquiring the wizened, enlightened expression of some old man. He watched the colors and features ripple across its skin like light on water. It was at once entrancing and grotesque.

"You mean this?" it asked, shifting its appearance again.

"Yes."

"Why wouldn't I? I've been locked in that one form for millennia-"

"You said it was centuries," the young man accused. The Spirit shrugged, undaunted.

"Might have been," it admitted. "It's difficult to tell when you're underground. No sun, you see. No light at all. Anyway, dear-"

"Don't call me that." Zuko hated being treated like a child by anyone, immortal or not. He had worked too hard, too long, seen too much to ever return to such a pitiful state. The Spirit's newly altered eyebrows raised innocently.

"Why not, dear?" No emphasis was placed on the offending word, but somehow, the message was clear: _I will call you whatever I want._ Zuko looked away, hoping to keep his quickly rising temper in check.

"Never mind," he growled.

Soldiers swarmed the village, all of them clad in crimson and black.

"Hm. They changed their uniforms," Tsune observed airily, stepping onto the road, appearing little different from the ordinary townspeople, not far away. "Are you coming?" it asked, turning to Iroh and Zuko.

"This isn't necessary," Zuko said idly.

"Of course it is," Tsune insisted. "You're wearing rags." It was true enough- the clothes that Zuko and Iroh wore had been all but destroyed since they had left the North Pole- weathered away by sea brine and mud and sand and countless other nameless things.

"But I'm not suicidal," he said stubbornly. Zuko was gazing at a sheet of parchment fastened to the signpost. It showed an illustration of his face, and beside it, Iroh's. The Spirit looked unenlightened. "They're looking for us," he explained. Tsune shrugged.

"You need clothes," it pointed out again, nodding at the tattered shreds of fabric. "Or you'll freeze, or whatever you humans do when you're overexposed. And you need to eat," it added. Iroh's eyes flickered, but the moment's indecision was quickly replaced by steely resolve.

"We'll find another place to eat," he argued. "But we can't stay here." Tsune rolled its eyes.

"If you're so afraid of getting caught," it said with a sigh, "Then you should consider hiding."

"It doesn't matter if you can hide like an animal," Zuko growled. Tsune shook its head with another sigh and reached forward, putting one hand on his scarred cheek. The Exiled Prince jerked back as though he had been burned. "Don't touch me!" he snapped, disquieted by the sudden touch. The Spirit grinned.

"Not like animals," it said. "Try hiding like people."

"What are you talking about?" Zuko demanded, but his voice was drowned out by another- this one lower than his own, completely unfamiliar. He spun on his heel, his hnds raised, prepared for battle, but the owner of the voice was nowhere to be seen. From the corner of his eye he saw Tsune approach his uncle, touching the old man's face as it had touched Zuko. The air around Iroh flickered for a moment, and then his face changed. It was sudden and abrupt, just as when Tsune transformed- now he seemed far younger, darker, completely alien. Zuko defied the urge to cry out, but clearly his expression said what he would not. The Spirit chuckled wryly.

"Don't fret, dear," it said. "It's just an illusion- nothing to worry about." A wave of its hand caused Iroh's face to return to his body before once again being replaced by the stranger. "You know, you've got a disguise of your own."

Instinctively Zuko's hand brushed his face. The shape of his jaw was different, unfamiliar- the same was true of his nose, his cheek- he felt his face pale.

Beneath his fingertips was smooth, flawless skin: unruined, unscarred, the stigma of his dishonor was gone at last! For a moment his heart raced. _Is it over? Am I done? My honor, my home, my father- are they back? Oh please, dear Agnii_-

_No_, he stopped himself, forcing grim reality to drown that rush of joy. _It's not. It's nothing but an illusion. A **disguise**_. Even in his mind, the word was bitter and cold. He removed his hand from the borrowed face, the false features set into a frown. _And that voice, too. That was me. The Spirit's changed my voice, too_. The realization came without wonder. Tsune shot him a smug glance, clearly unaware of his renewed gloom.

"Shall we go, then?" it asked. Iroh hesitated, then nodded, walking after the Spirit. Without argument, Zuko followed.

The march to the village was veined with paranoia. Niether Zuko noer Iroh were ready to forget the last attempt on Zuko's life. And despite Tsune's illusions, being in plain sight of so many people who wanted the Exiled Prince dead was unnerving. The Spirit, disguised as a charming looking young woman, wasted no time in finding a few soldiers to escort them to the local tailor. Much to its companion's discomfort. Batted eyes and a coy smile earned them a few coins as well.

"So...what happened to you?" the tailor asked, studying the threadbare clothes. Zuko and Iroh exchanged glances.

"We...ah..." the old man started.

"We were attacked by bandits," Tsune said, adding a tragic note to its voice. "I managed to escape before they robbed us, but my brothers were not so lucky. They're still rather traumatized," it simpered.

Zuko twitched. _No **idiot** would fall for that!_ He thought angrily.

"You poor dear!" the tailor cried. "That's horrible. Here- sit down, and my wife will bring you some tea- you look like you need it."

"They'll need new clothes," Tsune reminded him with a sniffle.

"Of course! Don't worry about it. I'll give them to you half price. These bandits..."

"Thank you, sir," the Spirit said. "You really are too kind..."

"Not at all, sweetheart," he said gently. "One moment. Let me get my supplies..." A second later he was out of the room. Zuko glared at the Spirit.

"You are disgusting," he said. The woman's face flashed him a grin.

"I know," it purred.

"Do you get some kind of sick joy out of making us miserable?"

"Not just you, dear," it assured him. "I'm Chaos, remember? But it is fun to watch you squirm."

"You fiendish little-"

"Shh!" Iroh quieted him just as the tailor's wife walked in, carrying a tray of teacups.


	3. III

Disclaimer: If any here so choose to sue,  
Then I in Justice shall Avenge-  
For Avatar belongs not to me,  
A cruel truth must I defend!

AN: Okay. So Defend and Avenge don't rhyme. I don't really care. Happy Holidays, everyone! I hope you're all ready to see Tsune tormenting Zuko some more. Finals are over, so I can finally work on my beloved fics again! And there was much rejoicing.

* * *

III

"It isn't my fault, dear," Tsune said dryly.

"You could have warned me!" Zuko snapped. The Spirit grinned.

"And miss that _stunning_ reaction? I think not."

"But some precaution-" Iroh began in his nephew's defense. His tone was gentle, careful not to evoke the Spirit's wrath. Though personally, Zuko would have preferred whatever 'wrath' this creature could have posessed to its incessant mind games.

"You could have warned him, too," Tsune accused cheerfully. "From the sound of it, you know enough of my people to know about such things."

"Mostly myths and legends," the old man insisted, trying in vain to ward off his nephew's incriminating glare. "Too many of them have been exaggerated and-"

"You knew about this, uncle?" Zuko asked.

"Just stories," he admitted.

"Come now," Tsune laughed. "Mirrors? Do you honestly think that most humans are creative enough to think of such a thing on their own? Not without a lot of...encouragement, anyway."

Zuko glared at it venomously. The Spirit's little laugh was slowly driving him mad. His heart had nearly frozen in his chest at the village, and yet it _insisted_ on mocking him!

Zuko had been the first to get new clothes at the tailor's shop. They had been cheap- old things that another man had ordered but never paid for, but they were about his size, and a few alterations made them fit well enough. Zuko remained silent as the tailor blustered on and on about bandits and whatever else, until finally the fool had turned him to face a small mirror on the wall, apparently satisfied with his work.

And there, Zuko cried out.

In the silvery glass, he saw no disguise, no symmetry of deception. Only his own reflection stared back at him in abject horror. Tsune had lied to him. It had betrayed him. Here he was, exposed, exhausted, and unarmed, labeled a traitor in the midst of a thousand soldiers.

"Is something wrong?" the tailor had asked, politely concerned, as though he didn't know.

"My brother," Tsune said mournfully. "He's been traumatized by the attack, the poor dear. It's none of your doing, kind sir," it bowed meekly to him. _As though such a creature could ever be humble!_ "He'll be all right. He just needs time to rest." It grabbed his hand, capturing his wrist in an iron grip and pulling him down beside his uncle on a wooden bench.

"Good dear," it said, grinning mischievously at him. "Now see? Nothing's wrong. You're all there."

He put his hand to his face- it was the stranger's face still. Not his own. He was still safely concealed.

"It's the mirror," Tsune had explained later, as though it was obvious. "Silver and Spirits don't mix. Catch one of my illusions in silver, and there's silver in the back of every mirror, and you'll see them for what they really are. But only the reflection. The illusion still lasts in the real world. Just not in a mirror. Simple." It had occupied the remaining march by laughing at him.

"Besides," Tsune said, drawing his still angry mind back to the present. "You don't just go around advertising your weaknesses. Not if you want to live, anyway. That's important, dear."

"I know that!" he snapped. Of course he knew that. It was a basic principle of combat. But that wasn't the point. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm fora moment. "So are you rested enough?" he said.

"Hm?" The Spirit glanced lazily at him. His uncle looked confused for a moment, then weary as he realized what his nephew was talking about.

"The Avatar. We're fed and you're rested. You have a promise to keep, Tsune." The Spirit nodded thoughtfully.

"Fine by me," it said, grabbing Iroh's hand. "You'd better hold on to these while I'm gone, though." It dropped a bulging sack of coins into his palm. "I'll be back soon, dear," it said. And with a rush of wings and wind, it flew awayin the body of a sparrow.

"Wait!" Zuko shouted after it. "Wait! What about us! You're supposed to take us to him! _Come back!_"

Iroh sipped calmly at his tea, a pause from trying to comfort his nephew. Prince Zuko said nothing, only glaring at the piece of roast duck before he put it in his mouth. The gold that the Spirit had given them had provided many such meals in the past week- all of them as dismal as this one, all spent at local taverns. They hadn't left the village, in some vain hope that Tsune would come back and keep its promise. But each passing day left Zuko more impatient, and Iroh more worried. The old man had no real concern for the Spirit- he knew well enough that they could fend for themselves- but he knew just as well that they were rarely bound by promises, and his nephew's meager hope was quickly dissolving.

"You should try some of this," he offered. "Their jasmine tea is very good."

"I prefer the ginger, personally," an electrically familiar voice said. Iroh and Zuko both snapped to attention. Sitting in an extra chair at their table was a young man. But not just any man- he was the boy who traveled with the Avatar. Zuko jumped up from his chair.

"Where is-" he began, nearly shouting.

"Calm yourself, dear," the other boy said. His ice blue eyes, locked on Zuko's, became dark brown for an instant before returning to their original color. A smirk adorned his face. "People are watching." Zuko glanced over his shoulder. True enough, many of the diners had stopped their conversation to stare at him. Gritting his teeth, he sat down, trying to ignore the fury that was rising in his veins.

"Where is he?" he repeated, his voice lowered to a more normal tone.

"I didn't bring him, if that's what you mean," Tsune said teasingly.

"Then what have you been doing for the last seven days?" Zuko demanded. The Spirit grinned.

"Research," it said, as though it was the obvious answer.

"_Research_?"

"Do I hear an echo? They really need to insulate these restaurants better."

"Enough of your games," Zuko growled. "What did you find out?" The Spirit leaned back in its chair.

"He is a male, in his early teens, if that, andan Airbending Master of the Air Nomads: he is marked and equipped as such," it listed carelessly. "He has black eyes and stands about to your chin, enjoys the company of animals and Water Tribe children."

"I knew that already," Zuko hissed. Tsune shrugged.

"I would hope so. But therein lies the problem, doesn't it? What, exactly, do you know about our little friend?"

"I know enough- I've been hunting him for two years-"

"Which is wonderful on its own, dear. But that tells you even less than it tells me. I want to know how much _contact_ you've had with him. How many times you've seen him face to face."  
"Nine," he said without hesitation.

"A fascinating number," the Spirit drawled. "But it must not be a mere _number_, dear. Nine _events_. And I want you to describe them to me: every sound, every color, every word. Leave no detail unpublished." It grinned, staring at him as though reading his thoughts. "And don't pretend that you don't have time. After two years, a few hours won't be more than a trifle. And the centuries have not left _me_ impatient. Now begin. And remember: leave _nothing_ out."

The tale was a long one- it stretched months, from the moment he first saw the flare that announced the Avatar's return, to the fight against the Water Tribe girl in the frigid North. Iroh added his own accounts, making them more complete. Tsune only prompted them- asking redundant questions about colors and minor objects- it seemed fascinated by the Avatar's two companions, and especially the necklace the girl wore. Zuko made little sense of it, but he answered its questions nonetheless. The telling had lasted several hours, and had taken them from the tavern to the more cozy room of a nearby inn.

"Well?" Zuko asked when it was finally finished. The Spirit glanced at him unfathomably.

"Well what?" it asked.

"You've heard our report," he said. "Now give me yours." The Spirit shrugged.

"No need," it said. "You've already got your answer. In fact, you've had it for a while now. I'm just surprised you haven't acted on it yet."

"_What_?" he demanded. The Spirit smiled patiently and patted him on the head, as though he were a silly child.

"I said, 'you've had it-'"

"I know what you _said_!" Zuko snapped. "What in Agnii's name are you talking about?" Iroh too looked surprised, but he said nothing. The Spirit's smile widened, and it leaned back, lying down on the wooden floor.

"The girl," it said nonchalantly.

"What about her?" Zuko's eyes narrowed as he spoke.  
"First of all, her name is Katara. That's going to be important."

"Why?"

"Because she's the answer you've been looking for all this time. You've only been proving what I already suspected...and I think it would have been obvious. But then," it yawned, seemingly ignorant of the young man's tension. "Humans are strange creatures. So silly sometimes."

"How is _she_ the answer? It doesn't make any sense." The anger was gone from Zuko's voice by now. He had what he wanted. Now all he needed was _why_. The Spirit smiled at him.

"It makes plenty of sense," it said. "All the sense in the world. Because _she_ is his weakness." Its eyes closed in predatory satisfaction. "Because the Avatar is in love with Katara."

It was hard for Zuko to sleep that night. The Spirit had found no difficulty- as soon as those words had left its mouth, it turned into a little gray fox and fell asleep at his feet. Iroh had nodded off shortly after, while listening to him create and reject his own plans again and again. Zuko had barely noticed. And yet, close to midnight, he found himself cruelly devoid of ideas.

Yes, the Avatar had a crush. It was definitely a weakness- part of the reason Zuko had avoided romance since his exile- yet it left him with few options.

Close to dawn, he finally managed to toss his way into a fitful sleep.

When Zuko woke, the first thing that came into focus was a a foreign face. It was cocked slightly to the side, rested on two hands- the only things that separated it from the wooden floor. The face belonged to a man, draped haphazardly on the floor beside him, studying him intently. Zuko gave a slight cry of surprise and pushed himself back and _away_ from the stranger before jumping up and into a fighting stance.

"I told you he'd wake up," the stranger said listlessly, glancing up at Iroh. The old man nodded, looking at once alarmed and amused.

"Tsune?" Zuko demanded. The stranger nodded and sat up as though nothing odd had happened. "Don't do that again."

"Sounds fair enough," Tsune shrugged. "So, dear. What's the plan?"


	4. Shadow II Pandemonium's Apprentice

Disclaimer: Incredibly enough, I don't own Avatar. But I do own Tsune. So HA! Take _that_, O wonderful Creators of Avatar!

AN: Happy New Year! Allow a brief explanation: Pandemonium's Apprentice isn't a chapter title. This story comes in sections, and only those are labeled. But for the sake of frequent updates, those sections are split up into nice, conveniently packaged segments, which are marked with these nifty Roman Numerals. Just to clarify things for you. Remember- review!

**Shadow II:**

**Pandemonium's Apprentice**

**IV**

Zuko looked between the Spirit and his uncle with resolute determination.

"We're going to kidnap the girl," he said. Iroh looked thoughtful. Tsune was not so impressed- in fact, it threw back its head and snorted.

"I thought you said you _weren't_ suicidal!" it scoffed.

"I'm not," Zuko growled. His mind was still rather numb from the long night, and the last thing he wanted to hear was this obnoxious Spirit laughing at him.

"You sure sound like it!" It jeered for a few more seconds, then continued: "Of course you can't _kidnap_ her. Do you have any idea what that would accomplish? Your Avatar is no coward- he thinks he's some kind of _hero_. And you know how heroes get- threaten his lovely lady, and he'll become angry."

"Then let him get angry," Zuko said. "He'll come right to us."

"You really don't want that," Tsune said darkly, a breath of twisted humor remaining in its voice.

"Of course I do!"

"Only because you have no idea what you're dealing with. Of course not! But let me give you some _vague_ idea: I've made tyrants cry themselves to sleep at night. I've made practiced murderers wet themselves at the sound of my name. I have made entire _Nations_ crumble." It paused, leveling its gaze with him. It looked wild, like a beast, barely restrained and straining to escape. "People have called me cruel, they have called me powerful, but they have _never_ seen the Avatar angry." It leaned closer, until its face was an inch from his. Black markings were tracing their way along its skin in demonic patterns. "Tell me, _dear_. Who do you think chained me to that rock in the first place?"

Zuko didn't look away. He stood defiant, glaring into its eyes. "So you have a better idea?" he said, his own voice as dangerously low as the Spirit's. It grinned at him- there were fangs in that smile.

"Exactly."

"Then what is it?" The Spirit circled him slowly. Judging him. He shot another defiant stare at it, but said nothing more.

"You want the Avatar to be distracted. Too distracted to fight, but not angry. Simply...upset." Tsune spoke as though it savored those words. Zuko was reminded suddenly of how repulsive this creature was. "And what is more distracting than a broken heart?"

"You said not to threaten the girl," he said quietly. The Spirit chuckled, the sound broken slightly by the fangs. It now stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"You aren't going to kill her, dear," it said. "You're going to kiss her."

"Are you insane?" he hissed. It chuckled again.

"Ah, but madmen are the best tacticians, dear. Think about it," it touched his cheek and tilted his head closer. Zuko felt the urge to get away, to escape. But no: this was his chance. If there was even the slightest hope of capturing the Avatar, then he would not spoil it for the sake of some minor discomfort. He had suffered more derision in the past. And so, he remained absolutely still, only his cold expression revealing the need to escape. The Spirit continued, a slight laugh in its voice. "That girl is obviously loyal to a fault. And you- if you capture her heart, she will let no harm befall you. And that foolish Avatar will not defy the woman of his dreams. So when you strike, he_ will not fight back_."

"You don't know that," he said quietly, trying to push aside the temptation of its offer. It sounded so simple..._Too simple! It won't work. There's no chance-_

"Yes, I do," the Spirit sang into his ear. "Because it worked the last time I tried it. And the time before that, and the time before that... Seventeen times I have employed my little strategy, and seventeen times he has been subdued."

"If it's so effective," Zuko challenged. "Then how did he get the better of you? Or does imprisoning you for a thousand years not qualify as fighting back?" The Spirit shrugged.

"Come now," it said nonchalantly. "Do you think I'm that dull? I don't use the same strategy every time, dear. The last tactic I used happened to be...ineffective. That's why I'm going with my surest method. This method." It grinned again at him. "I have no patience reserved for failure. And I take it, neither do you."

"Is there any other way?" Zuko asked.

"Plenty," Tsune said. "But none of them are sure. And they may very well get you killed if they don't work. This method has _never failed..._But if you're so set against it..."

Zuko set his jaw, but at the same time he resigned himself. He wouldn't like it, but... "I'll do it," he said.

"Excellent," Tsune said, stepping back. It now eyed him from head to foot, appraising him like a jeweler, then shrugged. "We'll save appearances for last, shall we? Now...let's see what you can do. Lie to me." Zuko just stared at it for a moment.

"What?" Zuko just stared at it for a moment.

"Lie to me. Tell me something that isn't true..." This did nothing to change the young man's puzzled expression. "Where did you get that scar?" it prompted. He raised an eyebrow.

"...A fire..." he said. Tsune blinked at him.

"I'm glad it wasn't a goose. What about the fire?" it pressed.

"...It...was a cooking fire...and it got out of control...because a vat of...grease...fell into it...and I tried to get it out...and..."

"That's enough," Tsune said, looking amused. "We'll work on that later. Let's move on then, shall we?" It changed appearances once more, this time becoming the Water Tribe girl. Katara. "It's your move," it said with the girl's voice. "React."

For an instant, Zuko just stood, still confused. But he obeyed, drawing on the first instincts that came to his mind- he backed into a fighting stance. Instantly, Katara-Tsune slapped his hands down and grabbed him by the shoulders, righting him.

"That's wrong," it said. "If you approach any girl like that, she's going to think you're insane, and then she's going to hurt you- if her brother doesn't get there first. Now try again."

"Perhaps you could try greeting her, Prince Zuko," Iroh suggested quietly. His voice was calm, as was his expression...but his eyes betrayed disapproval. Zuko blinked at his uncle, still unsure about the purpose of the exercise, but once more, he obeyed.

"Hello," he said simply. Katara-Tsune shot him a wry grin.

"Well," it said to Iroh. "Congratulations. Your nephew has all the charisma of a dead hogmonkey, but that's what I'm here for." Now its attention returned to Zuko. "Try expanding your vocabulary, dear. I know some girls claim to like the strong, silent types...but she really isn't one of them. Try again."

"Who are you, and what are you doing-"

"Have you ever even _spoken_ to a woman?" Tsune asked.

"Of course I have!" the Exiled Prince snapped. He was too frustrated to deal with even a Spirit's pestering.

"Which ones?" it jeered.

"My sister, and my mother, and that bounty hunter- Jun, and those servants-"

"To the Spirit World and back...that explains enough. No wonder you can't get a civil word out of your mouth. Now do it again, and remember- this is a woman. _Not_ a soldier."

"Why should that make any difference?" he demanded.

"Are you sure you're a Prince?" it asked suspiciously.

"Of course I am! What does that-"

"What exactly are they teaching Princes these days? You don't know how to lie, you don't know how to flirt, you don't even know how to talk to women. How do they expect you to run your own country?"

"What does lying have to do with ruling the Fire Nation?" Zuko barked.

"Everything! Haven't you ever heard of tact? Or negotiations? The entire concept of politics is based on the idea that you can lie well enough to get entire nations to bow and scrape just to please you. You must convince stronger nations that you are powerful enough to annihilate them, charm rebellious groups to love you enough to die on your behalf, make rival leaders like you enough to avoid wars that you cannot win. Now do it again, and do it right."

The exercise continued- over and over again, in a seemingly endless pattern. Zuko struggled with the task- the Spirit continued to make demands, most of them too obscure to be practical, and only his uncle offered any real guidance. So far he had learned several dozen ways not to address a girl (he now cursed his tutors in the palace who had neglected to teach him such skills), but nothing that satisfied Tsune. After several hours and even more heated arguments, the Spirit finally subsided.

"That's enough," it said, shifting to the form of another woman. It was a minor change, and still rather freakish, but it was a welcome relief from staring at the Water Tribe peasant for so long. "You're not going to get anywhere today. Now get some sleep, dear. We'll pick up again in the morning."

"Fine," Zuko said irritably, marching to his futon. Tsune grinned at him.

"Sleep tight, dear." He shot it a freezing glare and turned away. It shrugged and thrust open the room's only window. "I'm hungry," it announced, before becoming an owl and rushing away.

"It's about time it left," Zuko muttered. Iroh came closer to his nephew.

"Prince Zuko," he began softly. "You do not need to do this." Zuko glanced up at the old man. Iroh continued: "We can find a better way. You need not go through with the Spirits plans."

"It said this would work," Zuko said quietly. "Nothing else has." He raised his eyes to meet his elder's.

"Uncle, we've tried everything else. This is stupid. I know it is. But I'm not going to give up on it. Not yet."

"Prince Zuko-"

"Uncle. This is my chance. If it means I can catch the Avatar- if it means I can go home- then it's worth it."

Iroh could only offer him a gentle smile.

"Of course, Prince Zuko."

An owl landed on the windowsill of their room several hours later, after Zuko had fallen asleep. Yet the room's other occupant was not so tranquil. The old man watched silently as the owl in the window raised a dead mouse to its beak. He did not speak until it began to eat.

"Spirit," he said quietly. It offered no acknowledgment. "Tsune." This time the owl paused, blinking at him before it returned to its meal. He continued: "Of all the people in this world, Prince Zuko is least deserving of your malice."

The owl continued to eat as though it had not heard him.

"His life has been hard enough without your torment." His face hardened. "If you wish to help him, then help him. But I will not allow you to bring him more pain. Do you understand me, Tsune?"

"Calling me by my first name now, are we?" a cloaked man mused from his perch in the window. The owl had disappeared, but a few gray feathers were plaited into the man's hair. Iroh showed no reaction to the transformation. "My, my, aren't you getting bold, Iroh?" the Spirit chuckled darkly. "And here I thought you were afraid of Spirits."

"Knowledge is not fear," Iroh said calmly. "Nor is caution."

"Is that a fact?" Tsune laughed. "Sounds the same to me." It jumped down from the windowsill, the cloak billowing behind it.

"Yes, it is." Iroh did not flinch as Tsune brought its face inches from his own, as it raised its hand, resting its palm on his collarbone.

"You know," it mused. "I could kill you now, and he would be none the wiser." From the corner of his eye, Iroh saw long, gruesome claws replacing a man's fingernails, touching the tender skin of his throat. "I could just conjure another illusion or two, and he'd never know. And then he'd be all alone-"

"Do what you will to me, but I _will not let you harm Prince Zuko_!" Iroh growled. The Spirit threw back its head and laughed.

"You know, Iroh, you're a lot of fun. You've got _spunk_." It stepped back, still laughing. "I don't think I will kill you. No. Not yet, anyway."

In the swish of a cloak and a flutter of wings, it was gone.

Iroh stood alone and still for a few moments, staring out the window after the Spirit. Finally he tore his eyes away from that spot, turning his attention to his nephew. Zuko was still asleep, unmoved and unaware of what had transpired a few feet away- blissfully unaware of how close his uncle had come to death. Iroh stiffly walked toward his bed.

And then his legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to the floor with a muffled crash. Zuko stirred at the sound-

"Shh, Prince Zuko...It's all right," Iroh murmured, his voice deceptively steady. He was shaking violently, his heartbeat drummed a deafening beat in his ears, a cold sweat drenched his skin. "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. I will protect you, Prince Zuko. I will always take care of you."

Slowly, slowly, his pulse settled, as did his trembling muscles. He had strength enough only to drag himself to his own bed before he collapsed into the blanket.

In that last moment before all awareness left him, Iroh watched over Zuko.


	5. V

Disclaimer: If I owned anything, anything at all, do you think I would be working at a cafe right now? No, dear. Or maybe I would- all the cookies you can eat is a pretty sweet perk. And Sokka thinks so too.

AN: I'm loving the reaction I'm getting from you guys. And quite seriously, your reviews shape the story: Tsune's characterespecially is as subject to change as her appearance is- as is the plot of this story. Yes, amazingly enough, I have very little planned here, and I need your reviews to keep this going. So please, if you love the story (okay, so that's a bit optimistic- if you like the story) and want it to continued, send me ideas and reactions in your reviews! Speculate! Theorize! Make requests! The more specific you make your reviews, the easier it is for me to write. So write away, my dear friends.

* * *

**V**

The Water Tribe girl's face was set in an annoyed frown.

"No, no, _no_!" Tsune said irritably. "You do _not_ call a woman a peasant to her face. You call her pretty, and then mull about how peasantly she is afterward." She rolled her shoulders and circled him again. "You want to _attract_ this girl, not provoke her into killing you." In the past week, Tsune had taken on exclusively female forms, in hopes of improving Zuko's understanding of women. Yet, unfortunately for all of them, it seemed to be doing little good. Zuko was improving, though more through Iroh's coaching than the Spirit's. Otherwise, the only change was that both Zuko and Iroh now referred to Tsune as a 'she', rather than an 'it'.

But this only drove Zuko to consider taking a vow of celibacy.

He gritted his teeth- he'd been through this drill at least a dozen times already, and he was honestly sick of seeing women in general, and Kataraespecially.

"But if she attacks me, then I can kill _her," _he pointed out venomously. "And nobody can fault me for it." The Spirit glared at him through the Waterbender's ice blue eyes.

"That's right. Nobody, except for the Avatar, who will no doubt go berserk and smear your remains across the nearest cliff. Now do it again, and this time, _do it right._" Zuko growled incoherently, then turned his face into a rather threatening smile.

"Hello, pea-...I mean...it's a pleasure to meat you. May I escort you-"

Tsune rolled her eyes. "Spirits above...what have I done to deserve this?"

"What did I do wrong this time?" Zuko snapped angrily.

"Where to begin?" she asked dryly. "Never mind. Just keep going. Maybe if she dies laughing, we'll still get what we want without having the Avatar kill us both."

"I'm working on it!" the Exiled Prince growled.

"No, you're not," the Spirit said. "You're just going through whatever routine I give you. When you go up against this brat, your uncle won't be able to whisper in your ear every second. You have to understand what you're doing, and you have to be able to do it on your own. Now do it again."

"If you weren't a Spirit, I swear I'd..."

"It doesn't matter what I am, dear," Tsune said. "If you want to get this done, then you'd better do it right. And the faster you get it right, the less time we'll have to waste on this."

"Fine," Zuko growled.

"Then do it again. And if you're going to at least _pretend_ to be sincere, try to _look_ charming. My illusions can only do so much."

"Charming?" the Exiled Prince grated.

"You know, 'the way you act when you want a pretty girl to be attracted to-'" She shook her head. "Forget it. I swear, sometimes I think you're less human than I am. Take it away, Iroh," Tsune sighed, slumping against a wall. Iroh shot the Spirit a sidelong glance before stepping forward.

"When you capture the Avatar, Prince Zuko," he said. "When you bring him to your father. When you regain your throne and your honor- how will you greet your father then? How will you look at him when you return?"

For a moment, Zuko looked only thoughtful. Then, subtlety, his expression softened. His eyes became gentle, kind, forgiving. Hopeful.

"There it is..." Tsune said softly.

"That's supposed to be charming?" Zuko asked.

"Actually, the common term is 'sweet', but they're interchangeable among most girls. Just...keep that expression."

"All right," he said.

"Not quite...make your voice match your expression. Softer."

"Like this?" he asked. The Spirit smiled.

"Exactly. Now we're getting somewhere. And before we lose it...start talking."

"About what?"

"Her name. Ask her name," Iroh suggested.

Zuko shrugged, but made sure not to shift his expression too much. He already knew who the girl was, but he'd learned not to argue with the Spirit anymore.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Do it again. The words have to match the tone. Soft. Gentle. Try again. A little more polite."

"Please...What is your name?"

"Again."

"Could you tell me your name?"

Tsune paused thoughtfully before she spoke. "I think... you're starting to get it," she said. "It's not good- not by any means. But it's not sickeningly horrible, either."

"Is that so?" Zuko asked mildly. This was the closest the Spirit had come to complimenting him in a long time.

"Yes," she said. "Which is exactly why we're not going to jinx it. Anyway, we've got another few problems to deal with."

"And what would those be?" Iroh asked.

"For one thing, Katara isn't the only one we're going to be dealing with."

"'We'?" Zuko echoed, a slight accusation in his tone. "I thought you said I would be doing this on my own."

"A slight exaggeration," the Spirit shrugged. "Your uncle will be with you, of course," she shot the old man a sidelong glance, "because I doubt he'll want to be parted from you for too long, right?" She smiled sweetly. Iroh only gave a curt nod. He had more important things to think about than how many ways Tsune was mocking him. "And you're bound to mess up sooner or later, and I want to see as much of the show as I can before I have to clean up after you."

"How _dare_-" Zuko began.

"At least a half dozen personal encounters, and you haven't once actually succeeded. I know the Avatar is good, dear, but he's only a child. You can't honestly expect me to believe that you handled every situation perfectly."

"I had no control-"

"If you don't have control, then you arrange events to put all the strings in your hand. Then you can pull them as it pleases you."

"That's not even possible!"

"Just because you're impatient doesn't make what I do impossible, dear. Now back to what I was saying-" Zuko's eyes narrowed and he muttered threateningly under his breath, but the Spirit ignored him. "-You're going to have to learn how to deal with everyone- not just the girl. First of all- the Avatar himself. Don't threaten him. Don't try to capture him. Don't even speak to him excessively. Go through the basic greetings, but avoid deep conversation unless he first addresses you. But don't avoid him personally. If possible, try to turn any conversations with him to animals- he seems to enjoy that. Always has." Zuko was still scowling at this point, but the muttering had stopped- regardless of how infuriating Tsune was, any information and advice concerning the Avatar was important. "Second- and pay attention, dear,- the other boy's name is Sokka."

The lesson continued, for too long, in Zuko's opinion, but he didn't complain openly. At least he wasn't going over how to speak to women again- by now he could have repeated Tsune's instructions in his sleep, yet she never let him pause from the nerve grating drills.

Zuko rolled his shoulders, taking in the full effect of his Firebending drills. He had never before thought of his old exercises as particularly great, but two weeks of Tsune's training had left him starved for something tangible.

"Widen your stance, Prince Zuko," Iroh advised. Zuko nodded and quickly corrected his movements. This was good. This was the way it was supposed to be. This is the way it used to be...

Except for the minor fact that his Firebending exercises used to be practiced on a boat, and not on a grassy hill in the middle of nowhere.

After a week and a half of forcing her lessons on Zuko, she had finally been satisfied and taken them from the inn, though she had insisted on buying them more clothes and a ridiculous amount of supplies. Zuko often asked where Tsune had found so much money- she only grinned at him: "You don't want to know, dear," she would say. Zuko's imagination did the rest. Somehow, he believed that it stealing was too honorable for the Spirit.

He threw a few more punches, sending bursts of flame into the open air, trying to cleanse his mind of all aggravation.

"Are you about finished, dear?" Tsune yawned from somewhere behind him. He grimaced- he'd been _so_ close to forgetting she was there! The Spirit had actually been silent for the past few hours, napping while he trained in something worthwhile. But now she was awake once more, and all hope of peace seemed to flee at the sound of her voice-_ still female_, he noted.

"Are we going to the Avatar now?" he grunted over his shoulder. The Spirit stretched and yawned again.

"Not yet," she said.

"Why not?" he demanded, feeling somewhat futile- that had been the question for weeks already, and Tsune always seemed to be coming up with more reasons to delay their plan.

"I'll tell you later," she cooed, slinking up behind him. He shot her a glare, though it went ignored. "But first..." She jumped around Zuko until they were facing each other, then poked his forehead. "First, we'll have to work on that a little bit."

"Work on what?" he growled. Tsune grinned.

"Your disguise, dear," she said, drawing her finger down his face until it rested on his nose.

"Is this necessary?" he grated.

"Katara isn't going to be too eager about falling for her sworn enemy," she hummed, poking him absently in the cheek. "You need a disguise. I already told you that part. Other than that...no. I just like watching you squirm."

"Does it have to take so _long_?" he pressed- his voice shifted with every syllable.

"You have to be perfect, dear. I've seduced enough women to know what they like to see...hm..." she paused, studying him carefully for a second, before she continued. "You are going to be my masterpiece, dear. Irresistible to female eyes...but not so much that she becomes suspicious. Perfection nestled in the ordinary...Say something, dear, I have to work on your voice some more."

"I don't like hearing you talk," Zuko muttered, letting the Spirit toy with the sounds that left his mouth. "You are annoying, you are a headache, but that doesn't matter. Because you're going to help me get the Avatar."

"That's the plan, dear," Tsune said absently, still adjusting the sounds.

"I'll even kiss that blasted peasant if I have to," Zuko continued. The last few syllables were uttered with the same voice.

"Perfect!" the Spirit muttered cheerfully. "You'll have women swooning over you left and right."

"Are you finished, then?" Zuko asked quietly, his altered voice resonating in his throat. Tsune grinned at him.

"Yes, dear. We're done. _Now_ we can go find your Avatar."


	6. Shadow III Masquerade

Disclaimer: I own neither Avater nor the Phantom of the Opera.

AN: Thank you to all the people who reviewed, and to everyone who offered me in depth reviews. You have no idea how much that's helped me. And yes, since I am a die hard shipper, this is a somewhat Zutara story...

**The Third Shadow:**

**Masquerade**

**VI**

_Masquerade!_

_Paper faces on parade!_

_Masquerade:_

_Hide your face and the world will never find you!_

"He isn't here," Zuko muttered darkly. A leopard offered a bored glance down at him from its perch in a nearby tree.

"Perhaps we are only resting, Prince Zuko," Iroh suggested.

"We've been here for hours, Uncle," the young man replied. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded of the cat. "And why did you bring us to a _house_?"

"We're waiting for _him_, dear," said the woman who reclined where the leopard had been a moment before. Her pale hair fluttered slightly in a faint breeze- she sniffed at the wind with interest, but then shook her head. "It'll be a while yet. You might as well get comfortable." She hooked her arm around the branch she rested on and angled her head to better stare at him. "Like the house. Pick out your rooms." Iroh shot her a questioning glance.

"What about those who already live here?" he asked, his voice veined with suspicion.

"I took care of them. Pick out your rooms."

"What did you do to them?" Iroh persisted.

"It's not important. They're not coming back, so everything's fine. Go pick out your rooms."

"_What did you do_?"

"Have you gone deaf? As amazing as it seems, I _don't_ like repeating myself." There was a subtle threat in her tone. Now it was Zuko's turn to glare at the Spirit.

"Where are they, Tsune?" he asked. Without a word, the woman became a leopard once more, diving gracefully from the tree to stand before the young man. Its speckled fur bristled as it stared at him- and he stared defiantly back. Iroh grabbed his nephew's shoulder with one hand, preparing to pull him out of reach of the feline claws. And before the old man could react, the Spirit had changed again, once more looking like a woman, this one with dark skin and a smug grin on her face.

"Spirits above," she chuckled. "I love jerking your chain."

"Jerking what?" Zuko asked, one eyebrow raised. Tsune's constant transformations were beginning to lose their freakish nature, but her random use of obscure phrases still left him confused. Yet this seemed to be the point, because her grin widened.

"Your chain. Toying with you." She chuckled again. "You're fun to play with, dear." Now properly enlightened, Zuko narrowed his eyes again.

"What did you do, Tsune?" he repeated.

"Nothing exciting," the Spirit shrugged. "Right now, I think they're a few dozen miles from here, babbling to whoever will listen about monsters and demons." She hooked one arm around Zuko's neck and shot Iroh a smug glance over the young man's shoulder. "No better for the wear, of course, but not exactly injured, either."

"I want the truth," Zuko said quietly. Her negligence for personal space wasn't as unnerving anymore, either. But that didn't mean he enjoyed it, either.

"It is, as far as you're concerned," the Spirit mused. "And if it isn't, how will you know the difference? Now, if we're done with the little informative spree, let's get inside. You still need to pick out your rooms." Without waiting for a reply, she began walking towards the cottage, Zuko still trapped in the crook of her arm. Iroh, unwilling to leave his nephew alone with the Spirit, followed behind.

The house was roughly made- little more than a cottage. It was filled with rough odds and ends, a few clothes- some of these looked out of place, exactly the right size for Zuko and Iroh; Zuko shot Tsune a glance, but she said nothing- a small amount of furniture. It was Iroh who noticed that there were no mirrors in the house.

"Of course not," the Spirit had scoffed. "Do you think I'd let my plan be ruined so easily? Besides, nobody will miss them. Mirrors are expensive, and you're supposed to be inconspicuous. And in this part of the world, that means borderline poor."

"If you have everything so perfectly planned," Zuko snapped, "Then why don't you play the girl's lover? Or better yet, why not play the girl?" As usual, she completely ignored Zuko's glare.

"That's possible," she said, batting at a dangling wind chime. "But not practical, dear. And far more dangerous than this."

"You claim to be so good at this," Zuko pointed out venomously. "I thought you would welcome a challenge."

"And I would," the Spirit shrugged. "But first of all, I'm not fond of being chained up for another span of eternity. And second, I doubt you personally have the patience for such a plan." She looked him up and down for a moment. "Never mind- I _know_ you don't have that kind of patience."

"Try me," he challenged.

"Sure thing: all creatures have certain mannerisms, certain...things about them that identify them. In order to properly impersonate Katara, I'd have to watch her every movement, her every word, for at least a decade, and even _then_ the Avatar would probably recognize me, just because he's been fighting me for a few million years. And in case you weren't paying attention the first time I told you, I don't have control over the Avatar. _He_ has power over _me_. Which means roughly that if he suspects what I really am, and he decides to command me around, I have little choice but to obey. And even if I pretend to be the lovely Katara's new boyfriend, all it would take for an angry Avatar to stop me from ever coming near her again would be, quite simply, a single command." She paused. "You, however, are no Spirit. The only power he has over you lies in the fact that he can take your life. Which, and we've been over this before, is nullified if you succeed. So you can stop complaining, dear. This is the best way."

Tsune's only redemption for her absolute insolencewas the fact that she helped them 'fix up' the house- sort through its contents, throwing everything unnecessary or unwanted in a pile, making the house look 'clean yet lived in', as the Spirit put it, and hiding all evidence that they had not been the house's inhabitants for the past few years.

Several hours passed before Zuko paused over a drawer. Apparently it had belonged to a woman- a few trinkets of jewelry were carefully arranged inside, and in the corner was a small, simplehand mirror, barely the size of his palm.

"Is something wrong, Prince Zuko?" Iroh asked, pulling a long dress out of the closet.

"No, Uncle," he called back, pocketing the mirror. "Nothing at all."

They continued thierwork withoutfurther incidentfor the better part of the afternoon before Tsune stopped, frozen near a window. Her eyes narrowed, and she sniffed at the air without making a sound.

"What is it?" Zuko asked, and he noticed that his voice had changed to fit his disguise. He glanced at his hands- his skin had darkened a few shades. Iroh had changed as well. Tsune grinned at them.

"It's the Avatar," she said. "He's here."

Aang, Sokka and Katara had stopped for the night by a small spring. Appa grazed contentedly on the thick grasses that covered the hills around the water, and Momo scurried among the trees that dotted the landscape, collecting fruit.

Katara filled her waterskin at the water's edge, letting it lap across her hands as her eyes followed the bank of the spring. Not far away, the water overwhelmed the surrounding hills, and seeped between them in a little brook, winding its way into the distance.

And some distance away, kneeling at the edge of the creek bed, was a boy. He was too far away for Katara to distinguish much more than that- yet as she stared, his head tilted back and he met her eyes. At first his face was unfathomable, then, slowly, a quiet smile brushed his lips.

And then he stood up, collecting what looked like a clay jar he had been filling with water, and began to walk away from the brook, glancing at her from over his shoulder.

"Wait!" Katara found herself shouting. Sokka and Aang stopped their conversation to look at her. Even the stranger stopped, turning to face her. Without thinking, she dropped her waterskin on the ground behind her and stood up, jogging after him.

"Hey!" Sokka yelled, getting up to chase after her.

"Katara!" Aang called, joining in the chase. "Wait up!"

Zuko felt his muscles tense as the Avatar, the girl, and her brother approached. Years of training told him to fight, yet Tsune's instructions kept him still. _Let her come to you,_ she had said. He didn't let the 'gentle' smile fall from his face, though a look of slight confusion mixed with it. But now the fatal step had been taken- there was no more turning back. All he could do now was go through with the Spirit's plan and pray that his disguise did not fail.

Katara was nearly out of breath by the time she reached the boy.

"Sorry..." she said, trying hard to steady her breathing. "...Sorry if I...startled you...I didn't expect..." she finally looked up, and promptly forgot what she had been saying. The figure before her was no boy, but a young man. Quite definitely a man. A very good looking man.

"It's all right," he said, and Katara felt a smile tug at her lips. His voice sounded...warm. She felt comfortable just listening to him. "Don't worry about it."

"Right..." she said. "Thanks..."

_For crying out loud, pull yourself together, Katara! Remember what happened the last time you had a crush on a boy?_

"Katara, right?" the young man said. She blinked in surprise.

"Yes..." she said, and then a vein of suspicion entered her mind. "How did you...?"

"Your friend said it just now," he explained, nodding to the two boys who were finally arriving behind her.

"Oh," she said, feeling her cheeks redden. _Of course he heard that,_ she thought. _He's not deaf!_ "And what about you? What's your name?"

Zuko barely kept himself from twitching. Or swearing. Or killing something.

_Blast that idiot Spirit!_ He fumed, never letting his fury penetrate to his face. _She never said anything about this!_ But he would not accept defeat. He opened his mouth and uttered the first word to enter his mind:

"Kuzon," he said. For a moment he didn't recognize the name- then it hit him: _The Avatar's friend. The one he told me about._

"It's good to meet you," the girl said, an awkward smile on her face.

"Who's he?" her brother asked from over her shoulder.

"Aang, Sokka, this is Kuzon," she said, pointing at Zuko. "Kuzon, this is my brother Sokka, and Aang."

"Do you live around here?" Aang asked.

"Yes," Zuko- or rather, Kuzon- said, pointing to the east. "Not far from here, actually. What about you? I can't say I've seen you in these parts before."

"Yeah...we're not from around here," Sokka said with a shrug.

"We're traveling," Katara explained.

"I see," Zuko-Kuzon said thoughtfully. "Do you have anywhere to stay?" he asked, just as Tsune had instructed. As he expected, they shook their heads. "Then why not come to my house?"

"Really?" Katara asked, a little too eagerly.

_What did Tsune make me look like, anyway?_ He had tried catching his reflection in the water, but it was too distorted for him to make much sense of the image. But judging by Katara's reaction, the Spirit had done a decent job.

"Do you guys have food?" Sokka asked, his eyebrows raising in mild interest at the offer.

"Of course," Zuko-Kuzon said with a nod.


	7. VII

Disclaimer: How many ways do I own Avatar? Let me count the ways: nothing, nada, negative one, negative two, etc, etc.

AN: Thank you for all your reviews, and please, keep them coming! I'm going to put more character relations into this.

**VII**

Though his face remained calm, Zuko's mind was racing. Tsune had forgotten something as basic and essential as a _name_! What other details had the Spirit neglected?

"Hey, Kuzon?" The girl- Katara- asked. For an instant he didn't respond. Who was that Kuzon person supposed to be, anyway? _Oh yes...me_.

"Yes?" he asked, remembering just in time to keep his voice silky.

"Do-"

"How much further is it?" her brother interrupted.

"Not far," 'Kuzon' replied, before glancing at Katara. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," she muttered, her eyes locked on the ground.

_It's a good sign if she avoids your eyes,_ Tsune had told him. _Girls have this horrible fear of looking a crush in the face...not when he's looking back, anyway._

"All right," he dismissed kindly, looking straight ahead...though out of the corner of his eye, he caught her glancing up at him again.

_Perfect..._

Finally the house came into view, and it took all of Zuko's will not to fall down where he stood, let alone let his expression change.

_Uncle Iroh!_ The old man's silhouette could be seen in one of the paper windows. Except for the fact that he no longer looked like an old man- Tsune had conjured him another disguise. This was fine on its own, but it left a horrible gap: Iroh's new form looked young. _Too_ young to be Zuko's uncle. And a cousin would have little reason to stay in the same house, nor would a friend...

"Brother," he shouted into the house, his head still spinning. "I've brought company!" The silhouette froze behind the window, clearly stunned by the outburst. Just at the edge of the window, Zuko caught a glimpse at a vague shape pushing Iroh towards the door. Slowly, as though in a daze, his uncle obeyed.

"Wonderful!" he called back, poking his head through the doorway. "Please, do come in!"

'Kuzon' led them into the cottage, forcing a warm smile onto his face. Iroh walked alongside them as though invisible- few would have believed that he was the man who had threatened Zhao before the Avatar nearly two months before. He now looked little under thirty years old, his face thin and his hair dark. His eyes had been darkened to a neutral brown, though they still glinted with Iroh's familiar spark. The old man had been made young and handsome, _though not as handsome as you, dear, _Tsune had assured him. _You are my masterpiece...and we don't want the girl to fall for your uncle by mistake._

_Why not?_ Zuko had mused. _He knows how to deal with people. It would be easier for everyone._

_But it isn't his honor that we are working to regain. If you want this done, you must do it yourself... _she had paused, a look of comic disgust on her face. _And besides, I may be Chaotic, but I'm not **that** twisted. He's at least forty years her senior!_

Zuko had made no further arguments in that direction. The Avatar and his group stopped in a small room, returning his mind to the present.

"Aang, Sokka, Katara," he put just the slightest emphasis on her name; "This is my brother..."

"Ji," Iroh said with a grin. "It is a pleasure to meet the three of you. I'm afraid we're a bit unprepared for company, though...but do sit down! Make yourselves at home. There are no towns too near here, and I'm sure you must be tired..." He shot Zuko a mercurial glance. "Perhaps you could fetch them some tea? I was just making some. Perhaps it is ready."

"Of course... Ji," the young man said, stepping into the kitchen. Iroh had wanted him to go there for a reason. Was there a message? Was the Spirit waiting here, ready to debrief him? And yet he found nothing. There was no note, no living thing inside the room. Only a kettle of tea, mismatched pieces of diningware, and sacks of food. Perhaps a message was hidden among them, in case the Avatar came here? Unlikely, but he was ready to put nothing past his uncle.

Still nothing!

Zuko looked around the kitchen with growing frustration. The tea continued to bubble over the fire, the constant, annoying sound only fraying his nerves ever faster-

"Right here, dear," a feminine voice mused softly, its owner pushing a cup into his hand.

"Tsune!" he hissed in fury.

"Yes, dear. It took you long enough to find them," the Spirit noted, pulling a tray off a shelf and handing it to Zuko.

"You forgot to give me a name!" he accused. She shrugged, putting another cup onto the tray.

"I didn't forget, dear," she said simply. "I left that to you. Such things are more convincing if you come up with them yourself. And besides," she flashed him a grin. "You're the one who wants to regain your honor so badly. It gives you more credit if you do some of this on your own." She shrugged again. "And you know more about what's normal these days than I do. It wouldn't be proper for me to give you a thousand year old name and expect it to go unnoticed."

"You could have _warned_ me-"

"We've been through this before, dear. But if you want a warning, then hear this: beware the girl. She is dangerous. More so even than the Avatar."

"What? I know she's a Waterbender, but she isn't-"

"Enough of this, dear. Now go and feed your guests. And remember, _be_ _charming_!"

"Tsune!" he hissed just as she pushed him through the door. Immediately his expression changed, becoming inviting- if slightly frantic.

"What's that?" the Avatar asked from his seat on a small cushion. His companions and uncle Iroh were similarly placed.

Zuko's heart stopped in his chest. Had they been found out? Had they failed _already_?

"What?" he asked weakly.

"You said 'Tsune,'" the Avatar explained. "It sounds familiar. What is it?"

"My...my cat," Zuko said, his chest oddly tight. _Don't find out don't find out don't don't don't find out.._.

"Mew!" a high squeak caught everyone's attention as a tiny creature jumped out from between his legs.

"Yes," Iroh affirmed hastily. "She's his little pet. A troublesome little creature," he shot her a look that only the two of them understood- "but we do... love her." Zuko noticed the repressed effort behind those last words.

"You have a cat?" the Avatar cried.

"I take it you like animals?" 'Kuzon' asked. He already knew the answer, of course- if Tsune's information hadn't been enough, the boy had been practically crawling with animals from the first time he'd laid eyes on him- constantly riding penguins, playing with fish or that bison or his lemur or whatever other creature he happened to be within sight.

"You bet!" the boy answered, immediately reaching down to pet the Spirit-cat. Tsune shot Zuko a dirty look, but purred when the Avatar touched her. Zuko blinked. He could have sworn that the purr had sounded forced...more like a growl than a show of contempt.

_Great. Now I'm starting to understand Spirits, _he thought.

"Is something wrong, Kuzon?" Katara asked.

_Kuzon. Me. Right._

"Hm?" he glanced at her, trying to remember what she had asked. "No, everything's fine," he said. "I'm just not used to her being so friendly."

_Of course not. After all, why **wouldn't** she spend half her waking hours draped all over my uncle and me?_

The Avatar grinned up at him. "I have a way with animals," he said, his voice glowing with childish pride. Zuko smiled- _charming!_- and nodded as the Avatar released Tsune. The feline was gone in an instant, bounding out the still open door. A few rays of sunlight filtered through that, sending blinding hues of gold and red across the thin sliver of sky.

"It's getting dark," he observed.

"_Man_," Sokka muttered. "Yeah. Thanks for the tea. We should probably go set up camp."

"You don't have to do that," Iroh said. "We have a spare room; you can stay there for tonight, if you don't mind."

"Really?" Aang asked.

"It's no problem for us," Zuko added.

"That's really sweet of you," Katara said. "What do you think, Sokka?" for an instant, her brother said nothing, only looking 'Kuzon' in the eyes, a cold suspicion in his eyes. Once more, dread wove through every fiber of Zuko's body. _He_ _knows_... And then Sokka shrugged.

"When's breakfast?" he asked.

Dusk settled on the cottage and faded into night. The Avatar and his friends were situated in the second bedroom of the small cottage, left sleeping quite comfortably on futons strewn across the floor. Meanwhile, Tsune celebrated.

"Here's to a fine victory," she laughed, pouring rice wine into a bowl with a mischievous grin.

"But we haven't won anything yet," Iroh pointed out. He eyed the bottle of wine warily- he had lost interest in wondering where it had come from, but now he couldn't help but suspect that she had already downed at least another bottle.

"Of course we have," the Spirit laughed. "They're here, aren't they? That's half the battle. Now we just need to make her fall _desperately_ in love with you," another cackled laugh followed those words, "and put a leash on the Avatar. And that's that. Victory!"

"You're going to wake them up if you keep yelling like that," Zuko pointed out wearily. "And you're forgetting something. _Again_," he added bitterly. "Yes, they're here for tonight. But they have no reason to stay past morning."

"Then give them a reason. Talk to them, dear. Find out what they want. I'll bring it to them. You see no reason for them to stay. I see no reason for them to leave." She laughed again, raising her eyes to the heavens. "Would you look at that, dear! The Moon is rising. Here's to La, and the Waterbender who follows..." Zuko glanced at the Spirit. She looked disoriented, confused, shaken. Immediately he scanned their surroundings, searching for an enemy. It would have to be incredible to disturb a Spirit.

"What's going on?" Iroh asked, his voice low. Tsune didn't lower her eyes.

"That isn't La..." she said, her voice unsteady. "That isn't the Moon...It's different...That...isn't her..."

Zuko and Iroh exchanged glances. It had been Iroh's idea to omit the death of the Moon Spirit from their report. And yet...what difference did it make? How long had it taken her to remain awake during the night, to actually look up at the Moon? What did she care if a fish had died?

"Did you know...her?" Iroh asked warily.

"'_Did I_?' What are you talking about? What happened?"

"She died," Iroh said. Now Tsune lowered her eyes- they were fierce and black.

"Spirits do not just _die_," she said icily. "What happened?" Zuko opened his mouth to speak, but Iroh silenced him with a glance, pointing to the Spirit's hands. Claws were beginning to grow on her fingers.

"Admiral Zhao killed her," Iroh said, shifting his weight slightly. Keeping ever between the Spirit and Zuko.

"_Why_?" This word was little more than a growl.

"He was fighting against the Water Tribe," Iroh explained, his voice barely audible. "He wanted to stop the Waterbenders from fighting."

"_So he killed her?_ La was a _gentle_ Spirit! She was no more than a guardian and a healer! What right did he have to murder her?"

"I know," Iroh said. "I swear I tried to stop him-"

"And what about Tui?" she laughed bitterly. "I don't think he would have taken that lightly. La kept him in check. La kept him nice. Tui never did take pity on humans like she did."

"He avenged her," Zuko said. "He killed Zhao and destroyed his fleet, and-"

"That's enough, dear," Tsune said., somewhat calmed by this, though still unsteady. She stood up, her voice gaining more strength with every word. "You need to get some rest. Find out what they want and need, and tell me immediately. And if you don't know the answer to something, look distant and say you don't want to talk about it. It drives girls wild." In the moment before she changed into an owl and flew away, she looked more like herself- no longer shaken, no longer shocked or frightened.

Zuko said nothing as the owl disappeared into the darkness of the night. He didn't want to take any chance that she would overhear his plans.


	8. VIII

Disclaimer: If you accuse me of owning anything, I'll have Tsune turn into a platypus bear and eat you.

AN: Whoa...I haven't posted here in a while, so I hope I don't disappoint... I sincerely thank all those who review! As well as Kael and Moonhawk who are looking through this and making sure I don't botch things completely.

* * *

**  
**

** VIII**

_Those who have seen your face_

_Draw back in fear..._

_I am the mask you wear,_

_It's me they hear!_

It was nearly noon before the Spirit returned, her usual, unnerving self. She only passed over the younger exile for a moment, examining him silently, before returning to Iroh.

* * *

'Kuzon' sat back, watching intently as the two Benders practiced. 

"You have to really feel the water," Katara said. "It's push and pull. It's important, Aang. It can't really be controlled...just persuaded."

_Like so many other things in this world,_ Zuko thought wryly.

"I can persuade it," the Avatar insisted. "See? Check out this new trick I figured out." Before Katara had a chance to speak, his hands darted across the spring water, freezing a bit of it into a fluffy white beard around his chin. He shot her an eager grin.

"That's great, Aang," the girl said. "But you need to get the basics down, too. Being dramatic doesn't help too much in a fight."

"I guess you're right," the Avatar admitted. Zuko smiled, making sure not to let any smugness show. _How easy it is for Katara to control the boy!_ "Anyway, it's probably lunchtime, right, Kuzon?"

Zuko nodded. "My brother is probably finished with it by now. Why don't you go help him?" The Avatar grinned at him.

"Sure thing!" he said, before dashing off into the forest. Zuko stood up, brushing dirt from his clothes. Three days, and they were still here. It had taken surprisingly little to make them stay- Sokka had wanted food and safety and a sparring partner. Katara had wanted rest...and to be around the handsome stranger. And the Avatar went along with whatever Katara wanted without question. Tsune provided the food, and Zuko and Iroh took turns sparring with Sokka. Now there was one more task ahead- make Katara love him.

"You're talented," he said to her as she refilled her water skin.

"I had a good teacher," she replied.

"I mean it," he persisted. "The best teacher is nothing unless he has a good student."

"Thanks...but it really is-"

Kuzon-Zuko grinned a challenge at the girl. "Then teach me," he said.

"What?" she asked, almost laughing.

"Teach me," he repeated simply.

"Waterbending? You have to be born a bender, Kuzon. I can't just teach you how it's done."

"Then teach me anyway," he teased. Katara shook her head, then laughed.

"Fine," she said.

"Really?" he mused.

"Really."

It was ridiculous at best. Katara showed him how to stand, how to move, how to shift his weight. He repeated the motions, though awkwardly- it was obviously more fluid and flexible than Firebending, but he was completely unused to the constantly changing motions, swirling over a too-narrow stance. He felt like he had nothing to stand on, nothing below him to keep his balance. He had other difficulties as well, though these were intentional: as he had expected, Katara corrected him, trying to hold back a laugh as she offered him advice.

It meant nothing on its own, but in time, it would become important.

* * *

It was Sokka who came to get them. 

"Hey, Kuzon! Katara! What are you guys doing out here? Some of us are actually hungry."

"But you're always hungry," Katara pointed out.

"Yeah, well, everyone else is, too. So quit fooling around and come on."

* * *

Another day passed as the one before, and another, and another. Whenever Iroh and Zuko fell short of excuses for the Avatar and his friends to lengthen their stay, Tsune had a full supply. With each passing moment, the Spirit's plans grew, fed by Zuko's determination and Iroh's craftiness. Only once was there any threat of revelation. 

"Hey, Kuzon?" Katara asked. A northern wind had brought with it icy rain, locking all the humans inside the house. Sokka and Aang were playing some random hand game, and 'Ji' was distracted making tea and supper. He turned his glance at her, careful to filter half hidden adoration into his expression. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Go ahead," he said softly.

_You're good enough at lying now,_ Tsune had said. _If she asks you anything, just make it up. Just make it good and make sure you remember what you tell her._

She hesitated. "Why is it that you and your brother live here? So far away from everyone?" He let his eyes pass thoughtfully across the room, seemingly engrossed in memory while he quickly invented his tale.

"We prefer to stay away," he said. Her imploring glance invited him to elaborate. "My father...was lost to the War." Her face fell into sympathy and remorse.

"Oh." She said. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing you could have done," he said gently.

"Was he a soldier?" she dared to ask. He nodded solemnly.

"He sent my brother and me away before the battles came to our village."

"My father is fighting, too," she confided quietly. Zuko-Kuzon offered her a sympathetic look and a steadying hand on her shoulder. "I...I really want this War to end, before..."

"Before anything happens," he finished. She nodded.

"That's why this is so important. We have to stop it...somehow..." He eased her into his shoulder, giving her a comforting hug.

"I'm sure you will," he said softly. "The War will be over soon. I know it."

He felt her cheek reddening against his neck.

* * *

It took Tsune a few moments of manipulation to get the window open and swing herself inside the room. Her landing was silenced by feline pads, and slitted eyes examined the moonlit room. Sokka was shifting in his sleep, muttering something about Yue. 

_The new Moon_, she recalled venomously, turning away from the boy. The Avatar was curled up on the floor a few feet away, his pet lemur nestled on his shoulder. He did not go ignored, but he wasn't her goal this night. She bent by Katara's side, cupping her hands just around the girl's ear. Quietly, too softly to wake her prey, The Spirit began to whisper.

Katara tossed in her sleep that night, her dreams chilling and all too real.

* * *

_She stood on an endless plane, the horizon uninterrupted by hills or plants. Only one figure broke the eternal monotony._

_And it was one figure she had never wanted to see again._

"_Try to understand, Katara," Jet said. "I thought Sokka would understand..."_

"_Where is Sokka?" she asked quietly. He raised his hand, pointing over her shoulder. She spun on her heel to follow his direction- there was Sokka, bruised and bleeding, trying to fight off some kind of horrible monster. It threw him aside- he hit the ground, rolled, and did not rise. The beast did not pursue him- its attention was turned to Aang, who was sprawled on the ground, chained and unconscious._

"_Sokka! Aang!" she shouted, running at the beast, raising her hands as though she hoped to frighten it away. But too soon, something caught her shoulder, jerking her back._

"_Leave him," a chilling voice commanded. She glanced over her shoulder, hatred and fear filling her gaze. Jet was gone, but now Zuko had her in an iron grip._

"_No! Let go of me! Zuko!" She turned back to Aang, struggling to get free. "Aang! Sokka! Aang! No!" He did not move, did not wake before the creature descended on him. "NO!"_

_Everything went dark. The creature and Zuko and Jet were nowhere to be seen. Aang and Sokka were gone. She was alone._

"_Aang! Sokka! No...no no no no..." She stepped forward, but was met by only darkness. "Sokka? Aang?"_

"_What's going on, Katara?" another voice asked. _

"_Kuzon!" she cried. "Kuzon...it's Aang and Sokka...it's that...that thing...it's got them. Please, Kuzon. You have to help me. We have to save them. We have to..."_

"_It's going to be all right, Katara," Kuzon said softly. "Trust me. I'll keep you safe."_

"_And Sokka and Aang-"_

"_Trust me, Katara. Everything is going to be okay."_

"_Did he tell you that the man was from the Fire Nation?" Jet shouted from the darkness. Katara jerked, pulling back to Kuzon. "Remember what they did to you. What they did to your mother. Remember why you fight!"

* * *

_

When she woke up, her heart was racing and her breath came in gasps. Every inch of her body was drenched in icy sweat. Aang and Sokka were undisturbed by her nightmares, and remained asleep around her. Shaking her head, she pulled herself to her feet.

_I'll...go check on Appa, _she told herself, creeping through the now familiar shadows of Kuzon's house.

She did not see the other figure that silently followed.


	9. IX

Disclaimer: If you accuse me of owning Avatar, I will first be flattered, then sick Tsune (whom I actually do own) on you. And trust me--angry Spirits can be pretty nasty.

AN: Yes, I'm sorry it's taking me so long. I've got two and a half weeks left of school, so all my teachers are panicking and loading me with homework. I'm working as fast as I can, I swear!

* * *

IX

Appa was fine, draped haphazardly across the clearing not far from the house. She patted the bison and continued walking, trying hard to settle her shaken nerves.

"Katara?"

She jumped, twisting around and reaching for the waterskin that she had forgotten to bring into the warm night.

"Katara, are you all right?" the voice repeated, soft with concern. She felt a wave of relief course through her veins.

"Kuzon," she allowed herself to sigh. He stepped from the shadows.

"Are you all right?" he continued. She offered a brief nod, though it was cast aside by his skeptical stare.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"What are you doing out here alone?"

"Nothing." Another piercing gaze made her reconsider. "It's nothing. Just a bad dream...so I wanted to get some fresh air. That's all, really. And besides," she added defiantly, "I can take care of myself. There's nobody for miles, right?" He glanced into the shadows over her shoulders, and for the first time, she thought she could see vague shapes flitting just out of her line of sight.

"No people," he confirmed quietly. "But there are enough wild animals in these parts to make up for their absence." Just out of sight, another patch of darkness raged silently, making Katara jerk. She cursed herself silently.

"I'm not usually this jumpy," she muttered, a soft apology to Kuzon. He offered her an understanding smile.

"I know," he said. "It must have been some nightmare to worry you like that." He stepped closer, reassuring her with his presence. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head, the darkness barely concealing her reddening cheeks. "I'm fine. It wasn't anything important."

"All right, then." He paused, letting the wind stir the treetops overhead. "We're out here anyway. Do you want to keep walking?" Seeing her uneasy glance into the shadows, he put a hand on her shoulder. " You don't have to worry. I'm used to these animals; I'll keep you safe. Just don't go wandering off alone, all right?"

The light of a full moon illuminated patches of ground through gaps in the leafy ceiling, and the two of them deftly picked their path between the islands of light. The stoic near-silence of the forest was subtly interrupted by their own quiet conversation, a light exchange that swayed between subjects without direction. A slender twist of dialog pulled their exchange to the North Pole, to the battle, to the once sexist Master, to a fight against a silver-clad Prince, to the young woman who had given her life in exchange for hope.

And here, she fell silent.

"Katara?"

"I could have stopped it," she admitted.

"What?"

"If I'd been able to keep Zuko away for a little longer, then Aang's spirit would have gotten back to his body, and we wouldn't have been gone when Zhao came, and he wouldn't have been able to kill the Moon Spirit, and..."

"It wasn't your fault," Kuzon said gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "You did everything you could."

"But Yue was my friend, and Sokka...he really cared about her, and..." she protested. "I shouldn't have just let her die like that. I should have--"

He touched her cheek with his free hand, steadying her.

"You didn't know," he said, his voice low and soothing. "You did your best." He began to draw her closer, into the safety of his embrace...

Unbidden, a nearby branch whipped in terror, driven onward without wind. Not far away, a twig snapped, and Katara straightened, suddenly alert to the forbidding night.

"Listen, Kuzon," she said, squirming slightly. "It _is_ the middle of the night, and Aang and Sokka are probably wondering where I am, and we probably shouldn't be talking like this, and..."

Kuzon took a step closer. "You're right," he said quietly.

And then he kissed her.

For a fraction of an instant she was stiff, slightly resisting his touch. But that instant passed quickly enough. She seemed to melt into his arms, her hands rising to rest on his shoulders, pouring herself into the kiss as she returned it to him tenfold. She _wanted_ it, he realized, perhaps more than she had ever wanted anything else in her short life. She wanted to be held, to be loved and kissed and praised and cherished. She wanted a life devoid of motherly responsibilities and ancient worries. Zuko felt that need etched in her kiss, and through it read her every desire as easily as he would a scroll.

And through that desire, Zuko found his own triumph. He had succeeded. He had won. The Avatar would be conquered and his father would take him back and restore his honor and Katara was in his arms and kissing him and he felt so _good_. Everything was right. More than right. It was perfect.

Of all people, Zuko should have realized that perfection was fleeting.

Katara ended the kiss abruptly, and went suddenly rigid in his arms. His eyes opened sluggishly to see what the problem was: all the color had drained from her dark skin, her breath was shallow, and her eyes were wide enough that Zuko could see his reflection illuminated in them.

Not Kuzon's elegant reflection. His own mutilated face. The surprise that washed over his features was twisted by that scar into a horrible scowl, focused with cruel intensity at Katara. She paled even further, her hand pulled away from him and reached behind her back- Zuko realized that she was looking for her water skin.

He felt betrayed- outraged! One moment she had been kissing him, and now she expected a fight? What was _wrong_ with this girl?

What was wrong with _him_?

"Katara-" he started, but cut off quickly. Had his voice always sounded like that? So angry? She pushed away from him, her crystalline eyes wider than ever, and fled into the trees.

"Tsune!" Zuko roared. "Tsune! Show yourself, you forsaken little-"

"You know, you're going to blow our cover if you keep shouting like that, dear." Zuko whirled to face the Spirit, his face dark with rage.

"_What_ cover?" he snapped. "You've already given us away!"

"Not really," the Spirit drawled calmly.

"_She ran away from me! _She saw me, and she ran away from me! I had her, Tsune! _I did it!_ And then you-"

"No, you didn't," Tsune said stonily. "You're forgetting the big picture, dear. You don't kiss her. It's your job to make her fall in love with you, and then _she_ has to kiss _you_. While the Avatar is watching. Until that happens-"

"It doesn't matter anymore," he said wearily. "Don't you understand, Tsune? It's _over_. She knows who I am now."

"Do you really believe that, dear? Or do you just feel like giving up?" Zuko looked up, suspicion narrowing his golden eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"Katara believes that she's just finished a rather peculiar dream," Tsune mused. "Involving a rather steamy kiss-" she shot Zuko a smirk. "A few ghoulish visitors, and her 'brother' reciting some bad Earth Kingdom poetry. Shortly after, the 'Avatar' helped convince her that she was, in fact, asleep, and she laid down in her own sleeping bag like a good little girl. If anything has been gained from this venture, it is the 'dream' of kissing 'Kuzon,' dear. It will never leave her mind. Soon casual curiosity will become interest, and interest will become obsession. Thought will become action." The Spirit's face darkened and she shifted forms again, her eyes ablaze. "She will break the Avatar's heart, and I will break his body. And then you will take him to your beloved father and regain his love, and your throne, and your honor. It's simple, dear."

"It isn't going to work," Zuko grumbled, turning away from Tsune. Her words were riddled with temptation...which he didn't want. He had been feeding himself false hope for far too long.

"Odd. That's not what you said the last time we discussed this. Or the time before that..." The Spirit shifted, her features darkening until she was an exact reflection of Katara. _But not the real thing_, Zuko couldn't help thinking. _Just an imitation_. "Tell me, dear. What's changed your mind?"

"Nothing," he grumbled, still avoiding Tsune's now ice blue gaze.

"You're still a horrible liar," she whispered into his ear. Instinctively he shied away. "Now don't be afraid, dear. You can tell me. I won't laugh." Now he turned to meet her, a vicious glare fixed on his own face.

"I'm not afraid of anything," he snarled. "Least of all you."

But did he speak to the Spirit...or to the girl she impersonated? He was no longer sure.

Katara-Tsune grinned. "Then you'll have no problem going on with this," she said. "Because my plans don't fail."


	10. X

Disclaimer: Seeing how my plans for world domination have been delayed by finals, and seeing how Nick Studios is one of the first places I intend to conquer... No. I don't own Avatar. Yet.

AN: I'm apologize for my lack of updates. School is a pain, but that's to be expected. Tonight I'm expecting an incredible episode to stir up (or stir fry) my muses, and nextFridayis going to be my last day of school, meaning I'll have more time to write and post. So you can expectmoreupdates. But please, please please:throw me a bone and review, just for the sake of telling me that you liked it...ordidn't like it (though reasons and constructive criticism would warrant me sending Tsune to bring you chocolate). And my thanks and love to those who did review my last chapter. You guys keep me going! (And please forgive this chapter. I wasn't happy with it at all... I'll probably go through and fix it...or something...during the summer.)

* * *

X

The next morning passed, and the next. Zuko found, with more than a little satisfaction, that he caught Katara staring at him more and more often, and that even the slightest proximity brought a subtle blush to her cheeks. He could nearly see the debates that stirred within her skull, whether to remain in the comfortable company of her brother and the Avatar, or whether to venture time alone with the young man she knew as Kuzon. The more obvious her affection became, the more he tolerated, and eventually appreciated Tsune's constant meddling and inconsistently arrogant attitude. Surprisingly enough, though Sokka's suspicions of the crush were clear, Aang remained blatantly oblivious.

_Perhaps deliberately_, Zuko mused, noting how much undue attention he paid to the Spirit-cat whenever Katara began acting odd. At first he had attempted to draw her attention when she got lost in her daydreams, but he had quickly run out of tricks, and Katara's attention became steadily harder to gain.

Tsune personally avenged this proximity by fleeing defiantly to Katara's side, at which time the Waterbender would usually remark to 'Kuzon' about how adorable his cat was.

Zuko had no problem with this.

Pretending not to notice her growing fascination with him, he began to touch her more often—all of it casual and innocent: just a pat on the back, a hand on her shoulder, a brush of her hand. Even the most obscure contact made her tense slightly, and he could just barely catch the slight twitch as thrills raced up and down her back.

"If I'm not mistaken," Tsune observed one night, reclined leisurely on the floor of their room, "You're enjoying the attention as much as she is."

"It's called acting," he retorted mildly, allowing a flame to hover over his hand as he waited for his uncle to return. Iroh's late night conversations with the Avatar and Sokka and Katara had long since become commonplace, and they usually exchanged stories and jokes—something Zuko had heard enough of during two years at sea. Tsune shook her head laughingly.

"You forget who taught you, dear," she said. "No, I know you're not that good. Getting better, but not nearly so skilled." He rolled his eyes at her warped compliment and criticism.

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked, pulling the flame to dance on the tips of his fingers. "This is going well."

"I told you it would," she yawned. "But don't get cocky, dear. You're flirting with the most dangerous of the three."

"I doubt she would use her Waterbending against me," he assured her, stretching the flames higher and higher, watching shadows twirl and dodge on the walls.

"Humans," Tsune muttered, before changing into a little red fox and curling up next to his pillow.

* * *

The perfection of victory lacked only one thing, and caution was quickly enough discarded. He was already known to spend time on his own, in simple, solitary contemplation, so nobody could have suspected that he had continued his training.

Kick, punch, punch—each movement sending a glorious blaze into the afternoon air, each bringing with it that familiar scent of Fire. He repeated form after form, battling invisible foes, bringing every one to the ground, while dodging the looming shadows of the trees. These alone he had to beware of, not to let his attacks scorch their trunks and expose him to the overly perceptive Sokka.

Turn, roundhouse, knifehand strike—he felt the familiar thrill of battle, the surge of energy that pulsed through him.

Quickstep, ax kick, turn—he stopped short, staring into a pair of wide, blue eyes.

_Please, let that be Tsune playing a prank on me,_ he silently begged the gods.

"Kuzon?" she said softly.

"Katara," was the best thing he could come up with at the moment. His mouth was dry, his mind racing.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice unaccusing, perhaps a little pained. "You're...a Firebender?"

His brain too wracked trying to come up with a suitable story, he could only nod.

"Why didn't..." Her eyes hardened, an old call to duty wiping away the insecurities of surprise. "Are you working for the Fire Nation?" she asked.

"No," he said, as sincerely as he could. "We...my brother and I...we're refugees. We didn't..."

"What's going on, Kuzon?" she asked, that familiar warrior's voice replacing the softness of a fawning girl. "I want the truth."

_No, you don't._

"I..." he donned the appropriate expression of nostalgic remorse. "I'm sorry for deceiving you. I suppose I've just become so used to keeping it secret, it just seemed natural, and..." he searched for the right words, knowing that they were all wrong: "Katara, we're in the middle of the Earth Kingdom. And if the people around here found out we were Firebenders...we'd be killed as spies without a second thought."

"Then what are you doing in the Earth Kingdom?" she asked. He bowed his head and lifted his hand, allowing her to see the dark skin.

"My father...he was a general for the Fire Lord," he explained. "During one of his campaigns, he met a woman from one of the villages they passed through. My mother," he looked Katara steadily in the eyes. "He really did love her. And the more time he spent around her, the more he understood what the War was really doing. He came to hate it, and everything it stood for."

"Where are they now?" Katara asked quietly, some part of her already knowing the answer.

"They married in secret," he said solemnly. "After I was born, he returned to the Fire Nation, trying to convince others to stop the war."

A flicker of painful recognition softened her features.

"He was executed as a traitor. My mother died shortly after, of grief."

"Oh..." Katara managed to say. The Warrior had receded at last. "I'm sorry."

'Kuzon' continued: "We couldn't go back there, not after what had happened. And we can't survive here unless people think we're just like them." He looked away. "It's true that we could live closer to the villages, but...that would be too dangerous, unless we gave up Firebending forever. But I _can't_ do that. I can't just stop being what I am." He didn't look up as he felt her hand on his shoulder, a wordless sign of comfort and acceptance.

"I understand," she said at last, fully feeling the pain of such loss. He laid his hand on hers, keeping it close.

"It happened a long time ago," he assured her bravely. And then, his voice softer, "But...there's another reason I didn't tell you."

"What is it?" she asked, her innocence unquestionable. He looked her evenly in the eyes.

"You've been hunted down by my father's people for so long—I was afraid that if you knew, you would leave...and I would never see you again." A warm blush colored her cheeks, but he smiled meekly.

"You're sweet," she said quietly.

"I can't help it," he said, lifting his hand to smooth the loops in her hair. She flinched, just slightly, in memory of the flames that had once filled those hands, but the moment of fear passed, and she leaned into the touch. "You're just too beautiful."

He felt her freeze beneath his fingers, though her cheeks seared with another, deeper blush. Not allowing her time to react, he took her free hand and kissed it, his smile at once charming and apologetic.

"We should probably get going," he said. "Your brother will be wondering where you are."

* * *

"Yue," Tsune said, perching in the branches of a tree like a leopard. Her now green eyes narrowed at nobody in particular, though they caught Iroh easily.

"Yes," he said. "That was the young woman's name."

"I know," she said, not bothering to hide the venom in her voice. "Tui told me. As did she. Keep in mind that I am not without connections in this realm. So, Iroh," she swung down from the tree, landing before him. His expression offered acknowledgment, but no fear. "What else have you been hiding from me?"

"The death of the Moon Spirit was the only intended omission," he said sagely, not giving her the satisfaction of glancing at the claws that now adorned her hands. "But many details were left unsaid, if they were seen as unimportant..."

"I noticed," Tsune said. "Tui informed me that you were involved in La's death." Her voice was unfathomable, and Iroh remained prudently silent, nodding his head once in acknowledgment. The Spirit continued: "He said that you tried to stop Zhao. That you turned on your people to protect her. A foolish decision, considering the Fire Nation's current goals..."

"It would have been more foolish to do nothing," he replied. Tsune nodded.

"But take no comfort in that thought," she said. "A procession of ships and soldiers has left the capital, and you and your nephew are its targets."

"How do you know this?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Tui knows all that transpires on his waves," she paused thoughtfully. "Perhaps that is why he brought you to my prison. A reward for valor...or punishment for failure."

"But which is it?" Iroh wondered.

"Who can say?" was the Spirit's only reply.


	11. XI

Disclaimer: This is a test of your local "I don't own squat" (IDOS) Warning System. If I really did own something, you would hear the following siren: "WHOOHOO! I'VE FINALLY BEEN PUBLISHED! YIPEEEE!". But this is not the case. Masako Moonshade still does not own anything. This is a test. You may now return to your regularly scheduled program.

AN: This one's dedicated to those six wonderful people who actually reviewed the last chapter (I love you very much), and especially to **Khi** and **Rashaka,** who've been really great.

AN2: And tomorrow is...dundundun! The last day of school. And even though I'll have to take a time out to take care of all the things I didn't do during the school year (revise the Black Skies Saga, sleep, eat, bathe properly, breathe, clean my room, etc.) I'll have a lot more time on my hands to write.

* * *

**XI**

Everything was perfect. Flawless. It stared him in the eyes, taunting him, mocking him.

He couldn't stand it.

Because if everything was so incredibly perfect, why was he so frustrated?

He was going home, wasn't he? Tsune would take care of the Avatar, Azula would learn her place, and...and he was finding it harder and harder to focus on the spoils of his imminent victory. And even harder to be interested in Tsune's syrupy defense of _her_ way, _her_ methods, and _her_ revenge.

And yet he couldn't bring himself to blame the Spirit, either. He had asked for her help, after all. And as twisted and sick as she could be, she was trying to help him.

Katara leaned closer to him, shattering his thoughts. He could feel her subtle warmth against his side, oddly different from the heat of the small bonfire before them.

"I'm amazed you can stand it, Kuzon," she said softly. "Being alone all the time like this, I mean."

"I'm not, though," he replied, with the voice that wasn't his. "You're here with me." Whether through instinct or instruction, he wrapped his arm around Katara's shoulders, keeping her close.

"That's not what I mean," she murmured, entranced by the dancing flames.

"I know," he assured her, a slight laugh on his voice. "But that's all that matters."

She laughed lightly, resting her head on his shoulder, staring into the heart of the fire. "You're sweet, Kuzon..."

Zuko decided that he was really starting to hate that name. His free hand clenched, the center of his palm growing painfully hot. Suddenly aware of himself, he allowed the infant flames gathering in his hands to dissipate.

"Are you all right?" she murmured.

"Hm?"

"You seem...really tense..."

He offered her a half smile. "Not really. It just feels like that because you're half asleep. The sun set hours ago."

"Are you sure?" she yawned. "The fire's still pretty strong." 'Kuzon' allowed himself a chiding laugh.

"Watch," he instructed, raising his free hand as though to warm it against the flames. The fire blazed, erupting into a shower of sparks, then curled into small spirals of white and gold, before they all erupted into another hail of sparks. The bonfire continued the steady pulse for only a few more cycles of rise and fall before Zuko felt Katara's breath steady into the peaceful rhythm of sleep. He shifted his gaze between the glowing embers and her still face.

_My name isn't Kuzon_, he considered telling her. _Call me Zuko. Just Zuko._ Would she hear the words spoken into her dreams?

Would it make a difference?

_Was kissing me so terrible?_ he wanted to ask. _The real me, I mean._

Completely spent, one of the embers collapsed in a heap of crackling sparks, and he nearly jumped, suddenly back in his right mind.

_What was I thinking just now? _he asked himself, a flush coming to his face. How had his mind wandered in the haze between the waking world and dreams? And then, _Did I say any of that out loud?_ He could already predict what Tsune would say if she had heard his thoughts (and of course she would, because she had a nasty habit of seeing everything he _didn't_ want her to see): _How cute, dear! Getting jealous of your alter ego..._

Again, he found himself shocked into awareness. _Jealous?_ Of all words, of all emotions, why had jealousy entered his mind? And why should he be jealous of Kuzon?

Even if...anything like that...why bother? He was the one getting close to Katara. He was the one holding her, smiling at her. The actions were all his, after all, regardless of what name they were credited to...

And yet, this thought made his blood boil. Perhaps literally, because Katara stirred, and he struggled to cool his anger and quell his inner fire, lest he wake her. She settled back into placid sleep, and he offered the night air a miserable sigh.

"Something wrong, dear?" Tsune crooned. He started, though not enough to shake the dreaming girl. Keeping a guarding hand on her shoulder, Zuko glared at the apparently Fire Nation girl who was now poking at the dying embers with a stick. Tsune met the scowl with a cheerful smile.

"Yes," he said, making sure to keep his voice low. "She's asleep. Help me get her into her bed." The Spirit's face twisted into a smirk, though this was deflated by another burning glare.

"I don't think I will," she shrugged, prodding the embers again.

"Why not?" he asked.

The Spirit batted her eyes innocently. "What if she wakes up? She'll see me and ruin everything. Thinking you're with another woman, dear."

"And then you'll turn into a wolfbat or something and she'll just think she's dreaming again. She's already half asleep."

"And then the Avatar will show up and find us out. There's no point in trying to deceive him if something like that happens. And somehow, I doubt that a fight just now would end favorably for," she flashed a devilish grin, "your precious Katara."

Zuko's eyes flickered. "What?"

But his question went unanswered—Tsune had already vanished into the night. He shot another glance at Katara, then resigned himself.

There would be no getting out of it.

"Time for bed," he said, carefully maneuvering his grip on her shoulders as he stood. She groaned, not yet conscious, but he managed to pull her to her feet, guiding her away from the glow of the embers, back to the cottage. As she walked, still drunk and dazed with sleep, she stumbled, and he found himself holding her tighter, supporting all of her weight. Slowly, she regained her ground and continued, murmuring an unaware 'sorry...'.

Guiding her into the house was easier, if only because there were no treacherous roots or crannies to capture their feet. Going was slow, and Zuko found himself wondering.

_She doesn't act much like a warrior. More like the Avatar's mother than anything else. I'm willing to bet that she didn't even know to fight before she got her hands on that Waterbending scroll. No wonder it was so easy to sneak up on her back then._

_She's clever, though. Few people can gain so much skill in such a short time._

_Hasn't she figured it out yet?_

_No, _another part of himself ( the one that sounded suspiciously like Tsune) assured him. _Uncle and I were the first people to see Tsune in centuries...or something like that. And besides the Heibai and Tui and La, she hasn't seen many Spirits. There's no reason anything like this should even cross her mind._

_Evidently, it hasn't._

_And why does she have to be so trusting? What kind of a warrior does she expect to be, if she just falls asleep in the arms of complete strangers?_

_She didn't though. Not until now. And she thinks she's known me for weeks. Plenty of time to learn to trust someone. And start to like them._

_And have those feelings be returned!_ he could picture Tsune crowing. Flustered by his own musings, he finally managed to find a loophole.

_Of course they are, he assured the imaginary Spirit. Kuzon feels the same way about her. That's a part of his character. So of course I should act like I have feelings for her. Because I wouldn't be able to play a convincing Kuzon otherwise._

_You're a terrible actor,_ the imaginary Tsune reminded him.

_And I'm getting better. I have to get better. I—_

"...Kuzon?" Katara murmured sleepily.

"I'm right here," he whispered in her ear, easing open the door of her room.

"Good..." Her head drooped. Zuko nearly had to carry her the rest of the way to her bed before he could pull the blanket over her.

_I don't really like her. Kuzon likes her. I don't really like her. Kuzon likes her. I don't really..._

He forced himself not to linger any longer than necessary in the room.

"Good night, Kuzon..."

"Good night, Katara."

Once again, he felt himself grow jealous of his other self.

* * *

Tsune fled into the room and left her feline form behind. 

"That boy never gives up, does he?" she asked, her composure shaken for a moment.

"Zuko?" Iroh asked. "Or Aang?" She looked up sharply, suddenly aware that she was not alone. Then she shook her head with a shrug, regaining her calm.

"Either one, I suppose," she said. "But if the Avatar comes looking for me, tell him I've gone hunting or something, will you? He barely gives me a moment's peace!" She sat down heavily next to Iroh. "So what are you doing?"

"Meditating," the old general replied calmly. The afternoon wind whispered through the window, disturbing the candles in front of him.

"You need to lock the doors when you do that," the Spirit said, jamming the door shut. "Katara knows you both are Firebenders, but the other two don't. And it'll only complicate things if they want to leave before this is finished."

"Or," Iroh said thoughtfully. "She could pass the message on. Aang is supposed to find a Firebending teacher, as well."

"That would only make him more dangerous," the Spirit said. "If you teach him too much, then there's no telling how much more powerful he could become."

"Then I won't teach him much. Just meditation and such things. But nothing that he can fight with."

"Don't underestimate the Avatar's creativity. He can make the most simple toy into a lethal weapon. And besides," Tsune sniffed disdainfully. "Even if Zuko is being protected by Katara, _you're_ not. The Avatar could very well go after you without realizing it. Especially if he figures out who you really are."

"Is that concern I hear in your voice?" Iroh asked mildly.

Tsune shrugged again. "No, that's just your imagination. But you need to be careful anyway. _Zuko_ can afford to get too close."

"He probably needs it," Iroh agreed.

"But you don't and you can't," she put a hand on Iroh's head. "Besides, somebody's got to keep me company while I'm hiding from the Avatar."

Iroh only smiled.

* * *

AN: (Grh...I don't like putting these on the end...) Backstory behind this chapter: no, Katara would not have been aware of any of that. My own little siblings fall asleep on the couch all the time, and, though they're too heavy to carry upstairs to thier bedrooms anymore, it's not at all difficult to get them on thier feet and walk them the entire way. No, they're not more than halfway concious, no, they usually have no recollection of the event. Without another hand to guide them and keep them going, it wouldn't work. You can try it on your own siblings, if you wish (though I take no responsibility). 

Just to weed that little detail out of the reviews.


	12. Shadow IV Ataxic Collapse

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.

**The Fourth Shadow:**

**Ataxic Collapse**

**XII**

"Zuko's been awfully quiet lately," Tsune said, watching him though the window. 'Kuzon' trailed loyally behind Katara, rarely speaking, but still somehow included in her conversation with her brother and the Avatar.

"He's had a lot on his mind," Iroh said. The kettle was whistling merrily, but the Spirit watched it as though it was an omen.

"Really?" she said. "He hasn't said anything."

"He rarely does." Even though Iroh pulled the kettle from the fire, it continued to squeal, and Tsune continued to eye it with the same wariness.

"What about?" she pried. Iroh glanced at the Spirit.

"Katara, most likely."

"She's serving her purpose beautifully."

"Too beautifully, perhaps," Iroh nodded solemnly. As usual, Tsune shrugged. She had seen as well what had happened the day before. Katara had, with Iroh's permission, revealed that he and 'Kuzon' were Firebenders, as well as the story behind them. As predicted, the first reactions were fear and anger. Immediately Sokka had pounced on Zuko, ready to unleash all the wrath of a warrior and an older brother.

And Zuko had done nothing, prepared to take any necessary beating with dignity. It was Katara who intervened, pulling Sokka off 'Kuzon', talking him down, explaining, excusing. She had, as was her duty, protected 'Kuzon' from the blows of the people closest to her.

And in doing so, she had proved Tsune right.

The fact that Zuko had been so quiet ever since had gone unnoticed—Sokka and Aang had taken it as a sign of nerves or gratitude, or the tentative silence that accompanied embarrassment. Iroh and Tsune knew better.

* * *

As Sokka and Aang went inside, Zuko touched Katara's arm. She glanced up, and he beckoned her to the side. 

"Katara," he began softly.

"What is it?" she asked.

"There's something I need to show you," he said, taking her hand, leading her away from the house. She looked up at him, concern brushing her features.

"Is something wrong?" she pressed, squeezing his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind.

"You'll understand when you see," he said.

"All right," she replied softly. Zuko felt a wave of guilt wash through him. She trusted him so absolutely- he could have led her into a monster's lair, and she would have followed him. At one time, that realization would have made him proud. Now he only felt miserable.

"...Um...Kuzon?" her voice pulled him from his thoughts. "I think there's something wrong with your cat..." True enough, Tsune was winding between his feet, carefully dodging his footsteps, and grabbing his pant leg in her mouth with grim determination.

_Does she know?_ He wouldn't be surprised if the Spirit did.

"Don't worry about it," he said, not pausing. Finally the Spirit-cat gave up, retreating huffily into the trees.

_Don't do this,_ a voice whispered behind them. Katara spun on her heel, but the source of the sound had already vanished. _Just the wind,_ she told herself.

"What's going on?" she asked, feeling more on edge than ever. She sensed that something was happening, but whatever it was, it frightened her. Realizing how ridiculous she must have appeared, she shook her head. "What was it you wanted to show me, Kuzon?" He lowered his head and spoke clearly to seemingly no one.

"Remove the disguise, Tsune," he said, his voice grim. There was no reply, save the wailing protest of the wind. Katara looked puzzled.

"Your cat?" she asked. He looked her seriously in the eye.

"She's not a cat," he said. Feeling suddenly cold, she laughed, defiantly shaking off the mounting tension, forcing herself to believe that it was all a joke. A prank.

"What is she then?" she asked. "A fox?" He opened his mouth as though to explain, then closed it again, his face clouded with uncharacteristic doubt. This shook Katara more than anything else. "Kuzon? Kuzon, what's wrong?"

Without a word, he seized her and pulled her into a tight embrace. She began to squirm, but too quickly buried her head in his shoulder, relaxing into the warmth of his touch. The once fierce warrior had become harmless, her defenses dropped for the sake of a man she didn't honestly know.

_Why don't you fight back? _he wondered with sad irony, at once craving her touch and lamenting it. _Why don't you prove that you're just as strong, just as brave, as any man in this world?_ She nestled deeper into his arms, oblivious to his thoughts.

_Why don't you hate me?_ It would have been so much easier to hurt an enemy this way. There would have been no pain in deceiving an enemy. One hand wrenched free of its rightful place around her waist, and slipped into his pocket. Almost instantly that same hand touched Katara's face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, barely audible in the moaning of the wind. With the tips of his fingers, he eased distance between himself and Katara, leaving only one arm around her shoulders. The other hand clutched the mirror, raising it so the reflection of her azure eyes danced on the silver.

"This...?" she wondered aloud, but a gentle pressure on her shoulders silenced her.

"Keep watching," he commanded. With all his will, he shifted the mirror.

He did not look at her as she gasped, the horror in her voice as painful as a dagger's edge.

"I...it's...it isn't real..." she forced the words from her mouth, wrenching his hand down, casting the agonizing image from the mirror. "It's just a trick, right? Kuzon?" Silence. "Kuzon?"

"Of course it is!" an unfamiliar voice cried jovially, though Zuko caught an undertone of panic. "In fact, you aren't even awake right now! You're dreaming again," a rather random Earth Kingdom soldier cheered.

"Tsune, stop it," Zuko said, his head bowed.

"Don't mind him," the soldier said, becoming a Water Tribe woman in the blink of an eye. "He doesn't know what he's talking about." Katara jerked involuntarily as the woman approached.

"Tsune, that's _enough_!" Zuko cried, finally raising his head to look the woman in the eyes. "Stop this game!"  
"No, _you_ stop it!" she shouted back, suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. "We've come too far to turn back now." Katara flinched away, her mouth agape as she watched the woman violently shake Prince Zuko, now dressed in Kuzon's clothes, standing where Kuzon had been a moment before.

"It doesn't matter anymore!" he countered, his voice unsteady from the assault. The woman shoved him aside and pounced on Katara. Now it was a demon, pointing an accusing claw at the Waterbender.

"You're dreaming! None of this is real!" it roared.

"Tsune, _stop it_!" Zuko commanded, grabbing the demon's wrist and tearing it away from Katara. It struggled, fighting to get back to Katara, it's claws tearing at the empty air, but Zuko dragged it further away, and Katara stumbled back and away from the vicious creature. "_ENOUGH_!" The demon stopped, startled by his shout, and stood limply before him. Gingerly it reached up, gently pawing at his arm, but he brushed it off. "It's over," he said weakly, defeated. "Just...go."

The demon unleashed a frustrated, mournful cry, then vanished in a flurry of dark wings.

But Katara didn't leave. She just stood there, staring at him in horror.

"...Kuzon..." she managed to say.

It was Zuko who looked back at her, one of his yellow eyes glittering behind a hideous scar. The marred side of his face was twisted into a permanent scowl, as frightening as all the nightmares that had immortalized his face.

He didn't turn away. Nor did he open his mouth. He just...stood there, waiting for her reaction. Katara swallowed.

"Are you really Kuzon?" she said at last.

"I'm the only Kuzon I've ever known," he said after a moment's pause.

"But is that your name?" Another horrible pause while he gaged her expression.

"My mother named me Zuko," was his reply.

"So you...you're really..."

There was no point in asking why. She didn't want to guess how. And how he could do such a thing? She already knew.

"You lied to me," was all she managed to say. He was silent. There was no defense against her accusation. "I...I trusted you." She shook her head, in sorrow? In disappointment? He didn't know. He couldn't bring himself to guess. Neither could she, and she turned and walked away, as stiff and wooden as though she had died a few moments before.

For a long time, Zuko just stood there, feeling alone and naked and lost, staring after her, knowing she wouldn't come back. A cool wind chilled him, and he began walking—not after her, not back to the house, because he couldn't face her just yet—but walking as far as he could through the maze of trees, trying to keep his mind focused solely on the patterns of the trees. His pace quickened, and he sped nearly to a run. He could make out a rather straight path through the trees, and he closed his eyes and just ran, giving himself wholly to the evening. He raced blindly into nothing, away from everything—from his ruined honor, his failed mission, his disappointed uncle, from Katara...

He winced and went faster, trying to purge himself of the memory of her face...and then he found nothing beneath his feet, and he plunged forward, finally into something soft. He opened his eyes and found himself looking into the stoic eyes of a dragon.

"You're not going to get much of anywhere," Tsune said, exchanging skin for scales as she pulled him from the slick slope of the riverbank, "Unless you've got somewhere to go."

Zuko said nothing.

"Now come on, dear. Let's get you back to your uncle. You look like you could use something hot to drink."

* * *

"Katara?" Sokka asked. "Are you all right?" She turned to glance at him. "You look like you've been crying." Instantly he went on the defensive. "Did you and Kuzon have a fight? Did he hurt you? Because if he did, I swear..." she didn't need to hear the rest. Because she knew, too well, that all his promises would hold true. Especially if he found out the truth. 

"No," she said. "I'm fine."


	13. XIII

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Avatar, or had any say in Nick Studios, I wouldn't wait 'till July to show the movie, and I wouldn't cancel Danny Phantom. Nor do I own Evanescence, because I would have had them release another album ages ago if I did.

**AN**: I won't be here for a while, since I'm going to be out of town for a few weeks. This is my last prewritten chapter for this story, so I need suggestions, comments, criticism, whatever you can throw at me. Hopefully this little vacation will cure me of my writer's block. But I hope that this satisfies you for a while, at least.

**

* * *

**

**_Without the Mask..._****_Where will you hide?_**

**_Can't find yourself--_****_Lost in your lies;_**

**_I know the Truth now_**

**_I know who you are_**

**_And I don't love you anymore_**

**_It never was and never will be_**

**_You're not real and you can't save me_**

**_And somehow now you're everybody's fool..._**

**XIII**

Tsune sat at Zuko's side, not looking up as Iroh approached. She wore black hair and brown eyes, no feature at all remarkable. Yet as Iroh stepped closer, he was intrigued: it was not her body, but her expression that seemed unnatural. The Spirit looked...sad. Almost grief stricken as she watched Zuko sleep, guarding him against all the dangers of the night. She had disappeared again after the young man had revealed himself to Katara, and nearly a week had passed in her absence.

"Is something wrong?" Iroh asked, his voice low. Tsune did not look up.

"Humans are confusing," she said wearily. The old man sat down beside her.

"That is high praise, coming from Chaos," he said. She sniffed in the beaten mockery of a laugh, her lips raised in what might once have been a bitter smile.

"Yeah..." Several moments passed in crushing silence before she continued: "How can he love somebody who hates him?"

Iroh turned his gaze to the Spirit. She meant Katara, of course. And yet... "You spoke to Ozai?" he said softly.

"I didn't need to," she spat, anger rising into her voice. "I was planning on it, but listening to him talk..." She heaved a sigh. "Why is this so important to Zuko? Why is it so essential that he return to...to _that_?" She reached out, as though to touch the young man. Her hand hovered over the burn scar, hardly brushing it, and she withdrew her hand once more.

"He is stronger than you give him credit for, Tsune," Iroh said quietly.

"But he shouldn't have to be," she said, finally looking up. Her eyes seemed strangely full of emotion. Heartbreak.

"Do you intend to continue helping him?" he asked. She nodded solemnly.

"I'll do what I can," she said. "But that won't be enough, will it?"

"Who can say?" Iroh said wearily. He put one hand on the Spirit's shoulder, and both bowed their heads, returning their eyes to the sleeping Prince.

"You're still here, I notice," Tsune said finally.

"Katara has not told her companions yet."

"Humans," she shook her head again. "I thought it might be better if I wasn't here in the middle of such a conflict."

"Oh?" Iroh asked.

"Zuko's fought the Avatar before. That's something he's used to, something he can handle. But if I were to interfere...The Avatar will recognize me if I try to fight him. It's happened before, and I don't doubt it will happen again. Brokenhearted, that wouldn't be a problem. But healthy, whole...he would only end up retreating into the Avatar State and killing us all."

"So you left," Irohsaid calmly.

"And I thought...if there was a loophole. If he didn't need the Avatar to get back home..." Tsune shook her head. "You do realize that this counts as one of those important omissions."

"Does that change anything?" the old man asked.

"No. To back out now would end in disaster. This plan can't go halfway, Iroh. Either we win or we retreat."

* * *

Zuko's every nerve was on edge, but he did not move—only the muscles in his hand twitched, scratching his 'cat' behind her ears. Katara had barely looked at him at all in the past week. The fact that she was deliberately approaching him—and doing so alone—was ominous. Memories flashed before his eyes, of past battles between the two benders. She had matured incredibly as a Waterbender, and he wasn't looking forward to fighting her at this level. Or fighting _her_ at all.

Scenarios wove through the unoccupied parts of his mind—would he fight back? Try to talk to her? Do nothing? Any ideas that ended happily were discarded as fantasy. There was no escape.

"Zuko," she said, her arms crossed in front of her. He looked up at her—into her face, not her eyes, and not at her lethal hands—and continued scratching Tsune.

"Katara," was his reply, and an odd brush of familiarity unsettled him. After a week of debate, he still had no idea what to say to her. She looked him up and down, most likely summing up how quickly he could fight back if she chose to strike him. Long moments of silence passed.

"I want the truth," she said, her tone icy. He found himself looking down.

"You're still every bit the warrior I remember," he said.

"I'm serious!" she snapped, her arms parting slightly, her stance more aggressive than before. He spared himself a cleansing breath before continuing.

"And I'm not lying. You want the truth, Katara. That's all I can give you." She shook slightly—the Waterbender seemed to be somewhere between irritation and rage. Zuko kept his eyes on the ground.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. He looked up slightly, examining himself.

"I'm scratching Tsune's ears," he said finally.

Katara opened her mouth to rebuke him again, and then stopped.

_Remove the disguise, Tsune._

_She's not really a cat._

_That's **enough**, Tsune!_

"Tsune," she echoed, backing up slightly. "That...demon...from before...?"

"Spirit," Zuko corrected. "She's a Spirit." Katara grimaced slightly at the thought of such a monstrous creature being so close.

"So you have a...Spirit...as a pet?" she asked.

"She thinks it's the other way around," he said casually. It took an effort for her not to smile. There was still some trace of Kuzon left in him.

"How long have you been running around with a Spirit?" she said, forcing herself to focus. He thought for a moment.

"A few months," he said at last.

"You know, you don't have to tell her everything, dear," a plain looking woman said casually, sitting exactly where the cat had been a moment before. Katara jerked involuntarily. Zuko took his hand from the woman's head, replacing it at his side. The Spirit pouted at this, completely ignoring the Waterbender.

"My head still itches," she said.

"Though it seems longer," Zuko continued, ignoring Tsune's meaningful stare. Finally the Spirit grimaced and reached up to scratch herself behind the ears, muttering to herself.

"Does...it...do that very much?" Katara said, still unsettled by the display. Zuko nodded with a shrug. "And you're...okay with that?"

"You get used to it."

"You could say I'm the type that grows on you," Tsune said, showing off a fanged grin as she threw an arm around Zuko's neck, and the skin there shimmered, taking on the veined green of young leaves. Katara grimaced. Zuko shot the Spirit a sidelong glance.

"Stop it, Tsune," he said wearily, pushing her away.

"So she's the one making the disguises," Katara concluded. Zuko nodded.

"I noticed you haven't told your brother about me," he said evenly. "Or Aang." He could see every muscle in her body tense slightly.

"Not yet," she said.

"Why?"

"I'll...tell them when I feel like it," she said, grating out the words almost like a child. Zuko manage to disguise a small smile. He asked no further questions.

Though she still didn't approach him with her brother and the Avatar, Katara no longer fled when 'Kuzon' entered a room. She continued interrogating him whenever she could get him alone—and preferably without Tsune, though that was far more difficult than it seemed. But his willingness to answer her questions did not expiate him. She began every interrogation guarded, her eyes the chips of ice he had long associated with war and hostility.

Oddly enough, Zuko decided that chips of ice looked considerably better when in her eyes. Not that he intended to mention this observation to Tsune, of course.

Even more odd was the fact that, despite her glowering looks and cold voice, Zuko felt far better than he had in weeks. Relieved, perhaps. She was speaking to him now. _Him_—not some imaginary alias.

Katara walked quietly. She felt guilty about keeping 'Kuzon's' identity from Sokka and Aang, but...she couldn't make herself do it. Not just yet. After all, Aang still needed to learn Firebending. and Iroh was as good a teacher as any. Better, in fact, since he was on the run, and was too kind to turn them in to the Fire Lord anyway.

At least, that's what she told herself.

* * *

"You're wasting your time," an icy voice muttered. Katara spun on her heel. Leaning against a nearby tree, staring into the heavens, was an older woman, her skin inky and her hair pale. The Waterbender's eyes narrowed.

"You're Tsune, aren't you?" she said quietly. She still couldn't figure out how Zuko could identify the shapeshifter so easily.

"Clever girl," the Spirit shrugged. "But that won't do you any good. You are going to fail."

"What are you talking about?" Katara demanded, balling her hands into fists.

"Do you think you can actually change anything? Do you seriously expect that you can end this war?" the Spirit laughed, the sound cold and final. "Your people have been fighting for a century. Do you honestly believe that they will all forget a hundred years of hatred and murder just because the Fire Lord is killed? He has successors. The War will last as long as his Dynasty. Or...do you think they'll all quit, just because _you_ tell them to? Are you so arrogant, little girl?"

"I never said any of that," the Waterbender snapped, sounding more confident than she felt. "Stop putting words in my mouth." Tsune flashed a cool, sharp toothed grin.

"A war won't end just because you add one more body to the death toll. Peace is impossible."

"That isn't true," Katara said defiantly.

"Isn't it?" the Spirit drawled. "Face facts: you humans are born and bred solely to kill each other. Every story, every song, every word is just another piece of propaganda, twisting each others minds until the Enemy can't even be considered human anymore. They have no problem fighting each other. Never have, never will. It's peace that's painful."

"You're lying," the Waterbender growled, too stubborn to run away, too uneasy of the Spirit's powers to risk a fight.

"Am I?" Tsune straightened, striding closer. "And what about you? You are no different from the rest of them."

"What are you talking about?" Katara demanded again, fighting not to give the Spirit the satisfaction of retreat.

"How is it," it asked, its voice and features shifting liquidly. "That you adored your dear Kuzon—fawned over him...almost even loved him. And yet," Katara swallowed as the Spirit's form settled, its face now Zuko's, though its voice was still eerily different. "And yet, the moment you discover his real name, you run away. You flinch when you see his face. You flee at the sound of his voice. You can only stand to be in the same room with him if he is under interrogation, if he is under your absolute power. He exposed himself to you, Katara. He entrusted you with the only thing he had the power to give, he gave you the truth that you had been denied all this time...and you reward his faith with scorn."

"He's my enemy!" Katara cried, feeling cold. Her entire body seemed to numb beneath the weight of the Spirit's words. "He's trying to capture Ang, he's--"

"You're pathetic," Tsune growled, returning to a more generic shape. "Just like the rest of your people." The Spirit turned away anddisappearedinto the shadows, leaving only its voice behind: "Face it, Katara. You're nothing but a hypocrite. How can you save anyone?"

And in the cold solitude of the trees, Katara wasn't sure she could argue.


	14. XIV

Disclaimer: I still don't own Avatar...Pity, really.

AN:I wont' be able to use the internet orwrite for another week,so here's another chapter. Enjoy it, because the end is near!

* * *

_And I don't want the World to see me,_

_'Cus I don't think that they'll understand._

_When everything's made to be Broken,_

_I just want you to know who I Am..._

_Iris, _The Goo Goo Dolls

**XIV**

Tsune burst through the window in a flurry of wings. She landed gracelessly on the floor, inches from the old man, before rising up in a hasty human form.

"Start packing, Iroh," she said, her voice oddly tight. "We need to leave." Iroh raised his head, considering the Spirit before him, ignoring all her haste.

"When?" he asked carefully.

"As soon as possible." Iroh kept her gaze, watching with great interest as she recomposed herself: her expression smoothed, her posture straightened, her breathing slowed._ How odd,_ he thought, _that even Spirits can get excited. _The shape she had taken still bothered him, though.

"Why so soon?" he asked, his voice mild and smooth.

"The ship has reached shore. Its entire crew is on its way here."

"Perhaps they are interested in meeting the Avatar," he continued innocently. Tsune's gaze darkened.

"You bet they are," she said. "But that isn't even their main target. They're after you, Iroh. And they want blood."

Iroh said nothing. He just continued looking into those familiar gold eyes. It was eerie, he decided, how completely different Tsune seemed when she wore Azula's shape.

* * *

The disguise was gone. Zuko, no longer Kuzon, sat cross legged before five tall, somber candles. Whether Tsune had bought or found or stolen the trinkets was beyond her, but unlike the young man before her, she still wondered. His eyes were closed, his breathing controlled as the fires rose and fell around him, casting their golden glow across his face as though to say _this is him! This is real!_ As Katara approached, she couldn't be sure whether that light was a greeting or a warning. 

The floor creaked softly below her feet, and out of her sight, one of his eyes opened warily, studying the intruder before closing again. Otherwise he didn't move. For a few moments, Katara just stood over him, watching him meditate. All was silent, except for the steady rhythm of his breathing and the slight sputtering of the tiny flames.

Then Katara took a deep breath and stepped close to him, kneeling between him and the candles. The rhythm continued uninterrupted, as though he hadn't noticed her.

That's fine, she thought, inhaling quickly. In a single motion she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips.

The world didn't end. Neither of them died, neither erupted into song. The Fire Lord didn't come barging through the door, declaring his resignation from the war and the throne. Nothing happened. After a moment, she withdrew. Zuko didn't speak—he only stared up at her with questioning eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but realized that she had no idea what to do. The silent moment lengthened.

"Maybe your face has changed," she said at last. "But you are still the same."

She said nothing else. Neither did he as he watched her stand and leave the room, forgetting to close the door behind her. He did not rise to shut it. Nor did he move. He only continued to stare at the portal through which she had gone, frozen still...by what? By joy? It shouldn't be that, surely! And yet...he was happy.

* * *

Katara fled from the house with unusual speed. Yet her thoughts outpaced her flying feet as she escaped into the trees. _Yes. No. What did I do just now? Do I like him? Do I hate him?_ Her path mirrored her scattered mind. 

"Having fun with your meditating, dear?" For the first time, he really understood what Tsune had said about her imprisonment. Hours could have passed between the moment of Katara's kiss and the moment the Spirit walked into the room, though perhaps it was only a matter of minutes, or even a few seconds. Time had lost all meaning to him. He shifted his gaze from the now closed door he had been staring at.

* * *

Katara brought her hands up to shield her head, though from what, she couldn't be sure. Those furious thoughts broke easily through her defenses, tearing at her like wolfbats. 

Why didn't he respond? Does he hate me? Does he love me? Do I hate him? What's wrong with me? Am I mad? Am I crazy, and is all this a dream?

That sounded rather pleasant, somehow.

Please, please, please let this be a dream. Let there be black and white again. Let there be no more shades of gray anymore. Let there be no enemy who can smile at me that way and make me feel so safe. Please, please, let there be only good and bad again. Let me think that things are still simple.

* * *

"We're leaving. Pack your things, dear."

"Why?" He felt his heart seize in his chest, and he blindly groped for some reason, some excuse. "What about your foolproof strategy?"

"There's been a change of plans, dear."

She settled down, closer to the camp than she had intended, taking refuge in the familiar, safe warmth of Appa's pelt.

"Is this real?" she asked him lamely. "All of it?"

He groaned, and turned his mammoth head, staring balefully into the distance.

She, too, turned to follow his gaze. And she smelled smoke.

* * *

A family, an elderly couple and their son, had thrown itself at the feet of a young woman in red as a crowd of passersby watched. They were proclaimed lunatics, raving about beasts and demons and monsters and ghosts pursuing them from their home in the woods. The young woman would have paid no attention to them, but for the bleating cry of the old woman: _this horrible man—one with a deep red mark that disfigured half his face; a devil's mark, surely, because of the ruined, mutilated flesh that dwelled there_. Tsune finished the tale's entirety when Zuko and Iroh were both before her. 

It was Iroh who silenced his nephew long enough to question the Spirit.

"Why did you take Zuko's shape?" he asked evenly. Tsune shrugged.

"To get the point across. Humans can be very thick. It wouldn't have been the first time that people just assumed they'd gotten a nasty infestation of wild beasts. I had to make it obvious that they were looking at something genuinely supernatural."  
"So you became Zuko?" Iroh repeated.

"You weren't being pursued at the time," she said. "And besides, he was the most impish thing I could think of."

Zuko shot her a glare.

* * *

"Aang," Sokka said quietly, a chill racing down his spine. "Something's coming."

* * *

"Well?" Tsune said when they were alone, looking Zuko in the eye. "What's your decision?" He looked out at the smoke that was beginning to tint the sky that was still visible through the trees. 

"Take my uncle and go," he said. "I'm staying here." Tsune twisted to be in front of him once more.

"My illusions weaken with distance, dear. If that little witch comes here while I'm away, then it could break in an instant. You'll be killed on sight. And even if it stays, she'll only go after the Avatar. There's no way you could survive being caught in the crossfire." Zuko looked up sharply.

"And if I can't," he said. "Then what about her? She'll die just as easily." There was ice in his gaze, and the Spirit recoiled slightly.

"That's different…she's just…then tell them to leave!" she decided at last.

"Then I'll leave with the Avatar," he growled, turning away from her again.

"And if he discovers you? What do you think he'll do? Or Sokka?"

"I've dealt with them before."

"But not under these circumstances! It's dangerous, and…"

"And _what_?"

"If she tells you not to fight them, will you obey?" Tsune asked quietly, gnawing at the words as though they stung her mouth. "If she tells you to stay behind, will you do what she says?" Zuko turned and walked away, his face a mask of disgust.

"And I was starting to think you enjoyed playing games with people," he spat. A painful smile touched Tsune's stolen features.

"That's exactly right, dear," she said, whispering the words like an apology. He stopped for a thoughtful instant. Making sure to keep his hands out of the Spirit's sight, he pulled the mirror from his pocket, angling it just right to glance over his shoulder.

It took every ounce of control he had not to flinch.

The creature that stood behind him could never be mistaken for human, and only the most twisted mind could call it a Spirit. The shape of its eyes was all wrong, and they were divided by thin, catlike pupils. It sported cruelly sharp quills all over: where a human might have had hair, and more on its too-angular body. Weaving in and out of these spines were hellish tattoos, all as red as fresh blood, that laced even through its face; taking the place of long, sinister eyebrows as it dripped all along the grooves of its too-sharp face; raining from the brutally curved horns that adorned its forehead. All the colors of this creature were strangely distorted, as though seen through a drunk man's eyes. It raised one of those eyebrow-like markings, and its face formed some kind of indiscernible expression. Whether it was rage or pity or joy or sadness he could not determine. It raised one hand—this, too, covered in spines, and ending in wicked claws—and reached out to him.

"She said it didn't matter," he said, his voice too quiet. In the mirror, ears—too long and too pointed and as curved as those horns—twitched. It had heard him.

She had heard him.

"Katara said it didn't matter anymore what I look like," he told the creature, never turning to face it, shielding his eyes from its illusions. "Whatever face I wear, whatever name you give me, I'm still who I am." He allowed his shoulders to slump, and he pocketed the mirror again. "She kissed me, Tsune. I wanted to thank you for that." He took another step, and another. "Goodbye, Tsune." Another step. Another. He didn't see the Spirit hang her head, nor the single, bitter tear that fell from her cheek.

"Goodbye, dear," she whispered. And though he heard, he couldn't turn fast enough to see her as her hand became the monster claw of a bear as she jumped forward. There was nothing he could have done to save himself as her savage paw struck his head hard enough to throw him into the trees.

"I'm sorry, my dear, dear Zuko," she whispered, knowing that the young man would never again hear her voice.


	15. XV White

Disclaimer: I still don't own Avatar. So HA!

AN: Due to reader response (See? Your reviews are important to me!) I'm posting two endings to this story. The original, the one that I intended from the story's creation (and in my opinion, the better one), is White, while the alternate ending, the one that readers helped me to write, is Black. Let's see which shade best completes it. And Steel, please don't hurt my cat. And if this ending doesn't suit you, then go and read Black, and see if you like that any better.

* * *

**XV**

**White**

"They've found us!" Katara sounded the alarm, racing to her brother and Aang. "The Fire Nation! They're coming!"

"What?" Sokka demanded. "How'd they find us?" He began grabbing their belongings and shoving them in into his arms, and didn't see Katara's eyes flicker to 'Ji' for an instant.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "We need to get out of here."

"But what about Kuzon and Ji?" Aang interrupted, stopping them short. 'Ji' looked up, barely able to mask his confusion. "They're as good as deserters to the Fire Nation. They'll be killed if they're found."  
"Then they can come with us. But we need to get out of here," Sokka urged. "And fast."

'Ji' nodded, grabbing a few scattered objects and clothes, before he too stopped, his old heart suddenly icy. The smoke had become a thick canopy over the trees, and he suddenly remembered where he had last seen his nephew…and in what direction he had been headed, accompanied by the Spirit. Sokka followed his gaze.

"Oh, no…" the young man whispered.

"We need to find him," Katara found herself saying, though her mind raced: had he betrayed them? Or was he trying to hold off the attack? Or did he even know about it?

Barely exchanging another sentence, the four of them threw aside their parcels and raced into the trees, into the thickening smoke.

It was Katara who found the body first, its limp form covered in Kuzon's clothes. But the name she cried out betrayed the face he wore:

"Zuko!" She dove down, 'Ji' beside her, helping her push aside the thick branches and vines that surrounded the boy. Blood smeared his head and a cruel looking bruise disfigured the unscarred side of his face. Without hesitation, she uncapped her water skin and covered her hands in the icy technique of healing, laying them on the crimson mess.

"What are you doing?" Sokka demanded. "That's Zuko! He's one of—" He stopped short, his face pale, staring wide-eyed as Ji's features blurred and ran into each other, until they fell away altogether, leaving only an old man in his place: the man who had watched the turmoil when Katara had been captured. The man who had comforted them when Yue had died. The Prince's uncle, Iroh.

"What's going—" The Avatar started, attempting to get between Katara and Iroh, but he, too, was interrupted.

"It's been a while, Zuzu," an icy voice sneered. All eyes darted through the bushes, to see small squadron of Fire Nation soldiers, most of them riding rhinos or salamanders. At their head was a small, fierce looking woman.

"Not long enough," another voice snapped.

Every heart seemed to freeze. Because the voice belonged to Zuko.

The Prince of the Fire Nation stepped into their line of sight, a cold glare on his face.

* * *

"There's two of them?" Sokka hissed, looking between the motionless figure on the ground and the young man who challenged the army. Iroh's hand clapped over his mouth, silencing any further outbursts. Below them, the wounded Zuko began to groan softly as he regained consciousness. Katara covered his mouth, quieting his moan and jarring him further to awareness. 

"Zuko," she whispered, barely audible. "If it's really you, Zuko, then prove it. Do you understand me?" He nodded, though with a slight wince as his head rattled.

* * *

"Where's our dear uncle?" the Fire Nation girl challenged. The standing Zuko glared at her defiantly for several moments, then lowered his gaze. 

"He's dead," he said at last. "He died more than a month ago."

"What a shame," the girl mocked.

* * *

The Zuko in the bushes opened one hand. A spark kindled in his palm, growing into a small orb of flame. Aang reached out to fend off the Fire, but Katara grabbed his wrist with her free hand, keeping him away. 

"So it is you," she whispered, slowly taking her hand from his mouth.

"What's going on?" Aang hissed. Katara put a finger to her lips, ushering deeper silence, and turned her stare to the girl and her challenger.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" The standing Zuko demanded. The girl's serpentine grin widened. 

"What? Have you lost all dignity, dear Zuzu?" she replied innocently.

"Get to the point," he growled.

"Is that anyway to treat your little sister?" she asked. "I'm here to take you home, of course." Her voice had the tone of poisoned honey. Zuko's eyes narrowed.

"Since when does a messenger need fifty armed men?" He asked. The girl seemed undaunted to find that her taunting had failed.

"I never said I had to bring you in one piece," she said, raising her hand idly. At her signal, a dozen of the men descended on him.

* * *

The prone Zuko rolled to his knees, prepared to fight, but Katara and Iroh grabbed his shoulders, holding him back. For a moment he struggled, but the sound of rustling branches was lost in the roar of the Other Zuko as he was beaten and restrained by the soldiers.

* * *

"What do you have to say for yourself?" the girl asked, looking disdainfully down at her brother. 

"Release me, Azula!" he demanded, his cry still loud and fierce.

"Why should I?" she shrugged. "You're a traitor to your nation, and a failure to Father. You don't even deserve his generous exile. Do you hear me, Zuko? You are going to die today."

"At least I'll never be as pathetic as you," he said, his voice proud, his face raised into a dark smile. Azula's expression twisted into that of rage.

"How dare you, you—"

"I don't believe a sick little wretch like you can even dream about getting the throne," he interrupted, his voice growing louder, stronger, as he raised himself to his full height, despite the grips of the shocked soldiers. Azula's face was white with rage, her eyes so small that they nearly disappeared, but still he continued: "You think that killing me will make any difference? You think that'll make you any less of a bloodthirsty monster? What a joke!" He loosed a single barking laugh, looking triumphantly at the soldiers around him, seemingly unaware that the air had grown unbearably hot with Azula's wrath. His eyes paused, for only the briefest of moments, on a distant bush, where he could barely discern four shadows. Satisfied, he returned his glare to the girl: "No. You'll never be anything but a twisted, foul—"

"_SILENCE_!" she shrieked. For several eternal moments, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.

"Release me," he said again, shattering the deadly quiet.

* * *

The Zuko who waited in the bushes felt his arms begin to go numb. His uncle and Katara's hands were digging painfully into his shoulders, but he didn't dare speak, nor could he tear his eyes from the scene before him. All were entranced. Silently he prayed.

* * *

"Get away from him!" Azula snarled, swiping the soldiers away. The young man before her did not move as they fled from the voice of their leader. Not until they had all scattered did he make his move. 

He raced forward, leaped, his hands in fists as he reached for the woman's face, every fiber of his being focused into the attack. There was nothing left with which he could fend off the plume of flame that issued from her hands, hot enough to melt steel.

* * *

Dozens of screams split the air. 

The Princess howled her battle cry into the flames.

The soldiers wailed as they were lashed by the recoiling heat, fleeing from the wrath of a mad woman.

Trees cracked, unable to survive the torrid air any longer.

A lone warrior roared in agony as its body was consumed by fire.

And lost among the haunting screams, hidden among the foliage, five figures cried out as they clung to one another for dear life, each keeping the others from rushing to the aid of the dying creature as its howls submitted to the roaring flames.

* * *

Azula was breathing heavily; still glaring at the charred, ruined body that lay crumpled before her. 

"We're leaving," she snapped, marching away from the gruesome sight. Some of the soldiers glanced pityingly at the corpse, but none dared to suggest that they stay and dispose of it. Her rage was still too strong, and they knew exactly what defiance would bring.

Nobody ever came close enough to realize that the remains were not human.

* * *

Zuko continued to stare at the body, still in shock long after his sister had left. He was unaware that Katara and Iroh were holding him, that they spoke hushed explanations as Aang and Sokka questioned them. 

In a single moment, he had seen himself and a good friend perish. He could still feel the residue heat clawing at his skin, the echoes of the Spirit's final scream in his ears.

"It's going to be all right," he felt, rather than heard, Katara whispering into his ear. He shook his head, uselessly trying to revoke her words. It _wouldn't_ be all right. Tsune was dead.

It wasn't until after they had buried Tsune's remains that they found the note, tangled into the branches among which Zuko had been hidden. The ink was slightly smeared, and the characters were hasty and utidy, but it was still legible:

_Zuko_, it read, _This isn't for you to read. Give it to Iroh, and he'll tell you what you need to know._

It continued:

_Iroh:_

_I know you won't leave your nephew, so I'm confident that this will reach your hands: know that I'm no crazier than you first assumed (though that isn't saying much). I have broken enough laws, mortal and otherwise, to merit my imprisonment for the next few millennia. Needless to say, I prefer more creative options._

_Moving on…If you have recognized any of the feelings I have for you, then I am unarguably losing my touch. Go figure. And as much as I would enjoy traveling with you, I know too well what it's like to be stripped of freedom, and of identity._

_And as horrible as I can be, I won't be that cruel. Not to you. Not anymore, anyway. Ozai (I will never give that beast the satisfaction of a title) wants a body, so that's what I'll give him. He'll be satisfied, and the two of you will be free to go—anyone who does see you will be considered a lunatic by officials, so you just have to avoid them until the end of the war._

_There's enough money hidden in the house to allow both of you to live comfortably for at least a decade, including your legendary spending habits. Yes, I know about those. I also know that you'd rather work for your living, which is just fine. It should please you to know, though, that I didn't have nearly enough time to rob enough people to amass that much money. I happen to know where enough trading vessels sank, where enough stingy kings hid their wealth, to supply that little fortune. (La also told me how long I've been in that stupid rock: nine hundred and fifty three years. Or eleven Avatar Cycles, if you'd like to send Aang on a guilt trip. See if he remembers which one it was that did it, and punch that one out for me.)_

_However, since I will undoubtedly be dead by the time you read this (what happens to Spirits when they die, I wonder? Yue never said.) I intend to make one of those dying wishes that everyone gets. You know how it is:_

_Don't go back to Ozai and Azula. They've had their chance to have you, and they squandered it. Go back to the throne, if it pleases you, go back to your country, go traveling with the Avatar and his friends, but not to them. You both are precious to me, and I refuse to let them hurt you again._

_That, too, is part of the reason I have to do this, since there are some pretty severe penalties for Spirits who take too much of a liking to humans. Let me simply assure you that death is a lot kind in that respect._

_And I would sincerely like to write more, but you're currently running right at me, and I think it would take away from the drama of the moment if you read this before I died some kind of schmaltzy, heroic death._

_So goodbye, and good luck, and all the love that I am free to give,_

_Tsune_


	16. XV Black

Disclaimer: How many times must I say it...?

Dedication: This is for **SteelShadow**, who requested a happy ending, for**Kya** and **Jade Sabre** (the only two who offered to help edit it), and for my brother (We'll call him **Shrapnel** right now), who helped me to revamp the final chapter.

AN: Keep in mind that, though Shrapnel helped me fix this, it's still not that great. I still hate it, but I no longer feel the urge to gouge out my eyes every time I think about fanfiction.

Also, keep in mind that this is the alternate ending. It picks up immediately where chapter 14 left off, so the first few paragraphs will be similar. And yes, I'm the author so yes, she _can_ do that.

And finally, please, don't ask for a sequel. In place of this, I've created a Forum here on Fanfiction. net, so all of us can take part in writing thier continued adventures. fanfiction. net/f/551732/ It's called World Domination, so if you're interested, please take part!

* * *

**XV**

**Black**

"They've found us!" Katara sounded the alarm, racing to her brother and Aang. "The Fire Nation! They're coming!"

"What?" Sokka demanded. "How'd they find us?" He began grabbing their belongings and shoving them in into his arms, and didn't see Katara's eyes flicker to 'Ji' for an instant.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "We need to get out of here."

"But what about Kuzon and Ji?" Aang interrupted, stopping them short. 'Ji' looked up, barely able to mask his confusion. "They're as good as deserters to the Fire Nation. They'll be killed if they're found."  
"Then they can come with us. But we need to get out of here," Sokka urged. "And fast."

'Ji' nodded, grabbing a few scattered objects and clothes, before he too stopped, his old heart suddenly icy. The smoke had become a thick canopy over the trees, and he suddenly remembered where he had last seen his nephew…and in what direction he had been headed, accompanied by the Spirit. Sokka followed his gaze.

"Oh, no…" the young man whispered.

"We need to find him," Katara found herself saying, though her mind raced: _did he betray us? Or was he trying to hold off the attack? Or did he even know about it?_

Barely exchanging another sentence, the four of them threw aside their parcels and raced into the trees, into the thickening smoke.

* * *

It was Katara who found the body first, its limp form clad in Kuzon's clothes. But the name she cried out betrayed the face he wore: 

"Zuko!" She dove down, 'Ji' beside her, helping her push aside the thick branches and vines that surrounded the young man. Blood smeared his head and a cruel looking bruise disfigured the unscarred side of his face. Without hesitation, she uncapped her water skin and covered her hands in the icy technique of healing, laying them on his head, slowly mending his wound.

"What are you doing?" Sokka demanded. "That's Zuko! He's one of—" He stopped short, his face pale, staring wide-eyed as Ji's features blurred and ran into each other, until they fell away altogether, leaving only an old man in his place: the man who had watched the turmoil when Katara had been captured. The man who had comforted them when Yue had died. The Prince's uncle, Iroh.

"What's going—" The Avatar started, attempting to get between Katara and Iroh, but he, too, was interrupted.

"It's been a while, Zuzu," an icy voice sneered. All eyes darted through the bushes, to see small squadron of Fire Nation soldiers, most of them on the backs of their intimidating beasts. At their head was a small, fierce looking woman.

"Not long enough," another voice snapped, slightly muffled by distance.

Every heart seemed to freeze. Because the voice belonged to Zuko.

The Prince of the Fire Nation stepped into their line of sight, a cold glare on his face.

* * *

"There's _two of them_?" Sokka hissed, looking between the motionless figure on the ground and the young man who challenged the army. Iroh's hand clapped over his mouth, silencing any further outbursts. Below them, the wounded Zuko began to groan softly as he regained consciousness. Katara covered his mouth, quieting his moan and jarring him further to awareness. 

"Zuko," she whispered, barely audible. "If it's really you, Zuko, then prove it. Do you understand me?" He nodded, though with a slight wince as his head rattled.

* * *

"Where's our dear uncle?" the Fire Nation girl challenged. The standing Zuko glared at her defiantly for several moments, then lowered his gaze. 

"He's dead," he said at last, a weary sorrow in his voice. "It's been more than a month, now."

"What a shame," the girl mocked.

* * *

The Zuko in the bushes opened one hand. A spark kindled in his palm, growing into a small orb of flame. Aang reached out to fend off the Fire, but Katara grabbed his wrist with her free hand, keeping him away. 

"So it is you," she whispered, slowly taking her hand from his mouth.

"What's going on?" Aang hissed. Katara put a finger to her lips, ushering deeper silence, and turned her stare to the distant girl and her challenger.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" The standing Zuko demanded. The girl's serpentine grin widened. 

"What? Have you lost all dignity, dear Zuzu?" she replied innocently.

"Get to the point," he growled.

"Is that anyway to treat your little sister?" she asked. "I'm here to take you home, of course." Her voice dripped with poisoned honey. Zuko's eyes narrowed.

"Since when does a messenger need twenty armed men?" He asked. The girl seemed undaunted to find that her taunting had failed.

"I never said I had to bring you in one piece," she said, raising her hand idly. At her signal, a dozen of the men descended on him.

* * *

The prone Zuko rolled to his knees, prepared to fight, but Katara and Iroh grabbed his shoulders, holding him back. For a moment he struggled, but the sound of rustling branches was obscured by the roar of the Other Zuko as he was beaten and restrained by the soldiers.

* * *

"What do you have to say for yourself?" the girl asked, looking disdainfully down at her brother. 

"Release me, Azula!" he demanded, his cry still loud and fierce.

"Why should I?" she shrugged. "You're a traitor to your nation, and a failure to Father. You don't even deserve his generous exile. Do you hear me, Zuko? You are going to die today."

"At least I'll never be as pathetic as you," he said, his voice proud, his face raised into a dark smile. Azula's expression twisted into that of rage.

"How dare you, you—"

"I don't believe a sick little wretch like you can even dream about getting the throne," he interrupted, his voice growing louder, stronger, as he raised himself to his full height, despite the grips of the shocked soldiers. Azula's face was white with rage, her eyes so small that they nearly disappeared, but still he continued: "You think that killing me will make any difference? You think that'll make you any less of a bloodthirsty monster? What a joke!" He loosed a single barking laugh, looking triumphantly at the soldiers around him, seemingly unaware that the air had grown unbearably hot with Azula's wrath. His eyes paused, for only the briefest of moments, on a distant bush, where he could barely discern four shadows. Satisfied, he returned his glare to the girl: "No. You'll never be anything but a twisted, foul—"

"_SILENCE_!" she shrieked. For several eternal moments, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.

"Release me," he said again, shattering the deadly quiet.

* * *

The Zuko who waited in the bushes felt his arms begin to go numb. His uncle and Katara's hands were digging painfully into his shoulders, but he didn't dare speak, nor could he tear his eyes from the scene before him. All were entranced. Silently he prayed.

* * *

"Get away from him!" Azula snarled, swiping the soldiers away. The young man before her did not stir as they fled from the voice of their leader. Not until they had all scattered did he make his move. 

He sent her one final glare, before turning and walking proudly away.

But Azula wasn't finished with him yet. She sent a burst of flame, hot enough to melt steel, racing after him. Zuko twisted to face the flame, though he made no move to ward it off, his face grim as he accepted death.  
But he didn't die.

The flames surged around and above him, but he remained untouched. A wall of fire encircled him and the silhouetted figure that now joined him. He stared in disbelief at its conjurer: Iroh stood strong and resolute before him.

Azula was barely distracted, but the proximity of victory had stolen the edge from her guard. She was barely able to evade the fist that collided with her skull. She staggered back, then leaped to retaliate, only to evade a blast of flame from her attacker's hand. She only managed to glimpse his scarred face: Zuko._That _caught her attention.

Her eyes darted to her uncle, now fighting off the soldiers that approached him. Beside the old man, battling like a rabid animal, was _Zuko_.

"There's _two of him_?" one of the soldiers cried in alarm. Azula's eyes narrowed.

"It's a trick!" she snarled. "Kill them both!" Her men raced forward to obey, but their ranks were torn asunder by a brutal gale. The Avatar stood in their midst, flanked by two Water Tribe teenagers, all three ready to fight.

"Kill them all!" Azula ordered. "But leave the Avatar alive!"

Twenty men erupted into battle against their five enemies. Meanwhile Azula stepped back, fending off the occasional burst of flame or wind or water that was sent her way.

Two soldiers were frozen where they stood…five… Seven more were hurled against the earth and trees until they lost consciousness. The blasts of flame were warded off by the two Exiles, while Sokka's club sent the remnants into oblivion.

Katara was the first to finish his opponents—and so was the first who went after the princess. At first she was only startled by the strange technique that faced her, but she felt the sudden thrill as pale streaks tore behind Azula's fingertips.

Katara found her face buried in the ground, Zuko on top of her. She was just barely aware of the sudden, searing heat that flooded the air above her head. What caught her attention was the tree that exploded behind her, throwing a shower of splinters and flames into the battlefield.

"Zuko?" Katara whispered. He nodded, trying to regain his feet. A cruel blow returned him to the earth—Azula's leather boot struck his chest again, pinning him to the ground.

The horrible crackling sensation put their senses on edge.

Iroh threw himself at his niece, throwing her away from Zuko and Katara, but her attack was uninterrupted.

All around them, the moisture sizzled out of the air, seared away by a deadly heat.

Azula felt a cold hand grab her shoulder, try to pull it away from Iroh, but Azula took no notice. Not even of the golden glint at the edge of her eyes.

The lightning roared forth like an unleashed monster, racing towards Iroh…and then turning on its course, and descending into the oddly still hand that reached out past Azula's. For an instant, the intruder's entire body was illuminated, but the instant passed, and the deadly light was cast into a new victim.

Azula didn't even have time to cry out before she died. Her limp body toppled to the ground, her hand slipping from the grip of her unmoving captor. Iroh stepped forward, staring at disbelief at the smoldering body of his niece…and at the copper statue that had seized her. It was of a woman, her face cold with determination, her hand still gripping at an imaginary enemy, so still that she seemed forgotten by time.

"I…didn't know you could do that," Iroh said at last. Around him, perhaps unseen, the Avatar and his friends recollected themselves and healed the worst of their injuries. Zuko joined him in his silent reverie, and tentatively, so did Katara.

"I don't understand," the Waterbender said quietly. "What happened?"

Iroh put a heavy hand on the statue's shoulder. "Metal can draw lightning," he said. "And channel it into anything it touches." He pointed down, at the mass of charred grass and earth at the statue's feet. Katara still seemed unsure.

"But you can't mean…that wasn't Tsune, was it?"

Zuko gave a grim nod.

"I…I'm sorry," she managed to say. A part of her still wanted to hate the Spirit, but this wasn't the occasion for it. Zuko and Iroh seemed to have cared about her, and that was enough.

* * *

It took more than two weeks for the metal to recede enough for Tsune to change into a more pliant form. She returned to the cottage to find Zuko and Iroh waiting for her, though the Avatar and his companions had already passed on. 

"They couldn't risk being caught if the Fire Nation sent anyone else after them," Zuko explained.

"Though I'm sure that this development is a bit of a grief to you," she said pointedly. She was slightly disappointed that they hadn't been floundering in mourning, but evidently they both trusted that she would change back in her own due time. "That's what I get for being reliable," she had muttered in reply.

Zuko shrugged mildly. "Katara is going to come back," he said. "As soon as this war is finished." Tsune reclined into the wall, letting Iroh scratch her head. She shot a charming smile at him, then returned her gaze to Zuko.

"That could take months, though," she pointed out languidly. "Perhaps even years."

"I'll be patient," the young Prince said. Tsune wrinkled her nose.

"Of course you will," she said. "But she may get hurt, or killed, or swept off her feet by another man…"

Zuko was glaring at her again, and she burst out laughing. This was the way things were supposed to be.

"The other Spirits are watching out for her, of course," Iroh pointed out. He'd made sure to coerce Tsune into providing the Avatar an escort. Tsune nodded prettily.

"My big brother, primarily," she said. Both looked surprised now.

"You have a brother?" Zuko demanded. She grinned.

"Well…half brother…I think," she shrugged carelessly. "Hard to tell after all the millenia. He's no family man, but I managed to talk him into it. You'd love him. He's a real great guy. They call him Koh."


End file.
